


No More Heroes (In a World so Cold)

by ComposerofDiscord, SDSlanderson



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Justice League: Gods and Monsters (2015), Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Clash Fic, Contains Fanart, Difference of Philosophies, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Fanart, Happy Ending, I swear I like Clark's red undies, Ill Placed Humor (is more likely than you think), M/M, Mild Language, Neither are Right Nor Wrong, Pre-Slash, They ARE brothers, depiction of blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-31
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2020-07-27 12:54:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 27,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20046364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ComposerofDiscord/pseuds/ComposerofDiscord, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SDSlanderson/pseuds/SDSlanderson
Summary: Clark and Bruce are visited by an Amanda Waller from another world. She asks for their help with her Superman, Hernan Guerra, who has gone rogue. Clark accepts, and Bruce goes with him.When they arrive, Clark wishes to see who Hernan is and what he has done, while Bruce investigates the day Hernan went berserk. With what Bruce has gathered from his investigation and what Clark has seen of Hernan, they must decide who they can trust in the GnM universe: Waller or Hernan, or is there something much larger at play?(Clash fic set in Bruce Timm's DCAU with the main universe's Justice League and Justice League: Gods and Monsters.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Note: This project is a tandem team effort for the SBB 2019, meaning the art inspired by this piece of work was made while the story was being made. 
> 
> I'm honored to be working with my wonderful artist and friend, [SDSlanderson](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SDSlanderson/pseuds/SDSlanderson) for now three years in a row. I must be honest in that I don't think I would be writing for this fandom for this long, but your continued support and encouragement has kept me going even through the most difficult times. I hope you can look back at this work fondly, and know that it exists because of you. Thank you so much, friend.
> 
> As for the SBB chat, thank you for all the help and support throughout the writing process. This bang, more than previous bangs, have really worn me out, but all the laughs we've shared really pushed me past the finish line. Thank you so much, and I really hope this fic lives up to your expectations. 
> 
> Then finally, to you dear readers, thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy. 
> 
> P.S. The choice not to use archive warnings is made apparent very early on in this fic. I'm very sorry if you disagree with me, but for the continued suspense, I thought that option was for the best. It's a happy ending, I promise.
> 
> P.P.S The title of this fic comes from two songs. The first, "No More Heroes" by Aviators, and "World So Cold" by 12 Stones

-Prologue-

“Late night?”

Red eyes glanced at the clock to see it read 10:30am. He smiled wearily. “You could say something like that.”

“You should get some sleep while you can, Kirk,” Hernan said as he took the stack of papers his partner was resting on just moments ago. “You were busy. Still working with nanites?”

“I’m recycling.” Kirk leaned back in his chair. He couldn’t tell if the creaking was the chair or him. “We had a lot after… It’d be a shame to simply discard them.”

“Don’t forget. Even if you’re recycling the ones in the carpet, it’s still your turn to vacuum.” Hernan teased which earned a tired huff from Kirk.

A sudden alarm cut through the mirth.

Hernan sighed. “What is it now?

“It’s another day at the office.”

* * *

“I’m Lois Lane reporting to you live here in Metropolis harbor where just minutes ago, the main foundation to the Queensland Bridge has been destroyed by unconfirmed reports of explosives. Metropolis PD have yet to comment on possible suspects to this sudden terrorist attack. The League is currently working on clearing all civilians from the bridge. As you can see behind me, Superman is holding up the bridge where the old foundation used to be, as Batman is working with firefighters and MPD to clear the bridge. We will keep you updated as further events continue to unfold—”

“Hernan, there are 284 more civilians on the bridge. I’m freeing the last ones locked in their car. How are you holding up?”

“Well, the bridge is still up,” Hernan had replied effortlessly as he continued to bear the weight of the bridge.

“Superman, Batman.” The President’s voice buzzed through their intercoms. “A distress signal just came from STAR Labs. You are needed immediately.”

“A little busy here.” Hernan looked through the bridge to see there were still several people trying to evacuate.

“I’ll go then.”

“Kirk—”

“You’re still needed here, Hernan. I’ll go.”

Before Hernan could protest further, Kirk had jumped off the side of the bridge. His black wings expanded across his back and he was off.

“Kirk—” A loud bang rang on either side of him. Past the cries of hysteria and the quaking of the slabs of concrete in his hands, Hernan saw the two support columns on either side of him collapse. They sealed his fate. He had to stay.

“Go!” He yelled at Kirk when he realized the vampire had looked back at him. “I’ve got this.”

Kirk gave a single nod before heading off again.

Kirk was right. Even though Hernan could have reached the labs faster, he was needed here the most. As soon as the bridge was fully evacuated, he could help Kirk. Hopefully Kirk would be alright until then.

“I don’t like him,” Hernan finally said as a way to make sure Kirk was okay.

“Who? The president?” Kirk’s com came through. “You want me to eat him for you?”

Hernan tried not to laugh least the bridge start to shake as well. “I thought we were cutting back on junk food.”

“It was worth a shot.”

“Continue to talk to me, Kirk. Tell me the situation.”

“I’m almost there,” Kirk replied. “I’ll let you know when I arrive. How are the rest of the columns?”

“I don’t know. I scanned the bridge earlier for more explosive, but there were none. I don’t know what happened.”

“We’ll have to investigate it later.” Kirk landed in front of STAR Labs. He redesigned his wings for faster flight, but the place almost felt deserted. Was he too late? What was going on?

“H-Help! Please.” A man in a lab coat ran out of the building. “The rest… they’re inside. Trapped. Below.”

He hunched over breathless from running. Kirk entered the building and headed in the direction the man sent him. Faintly he could hear the slowed rhythmic thump of a heartbeat not too far away. His pace quickened.

“What’s going on?” Kirk didn’t reply to Hernan in case he was not alone. “Kirk?”

“H-Help…please. Somebody…”

“Hello, Sir. I’m here to help you.” Kirk reached down to the man lying on the ground. Not too far from him were four others in similar conditions. They laid inside a large cylindrical chamber lined with various computer boards. Sparks flew from frayed wires and the room was starting to fill with smoke.

He had to get them out of there.

“Can you tell me what happened?” Kirk began to extract the person closest to him, but the man could barely form words let alone a sound. His head lulled with great effort to keep it up as he groaned from being moved suddenly.

“Kirk, say something.”

“There are four scientists unconscious in some sort of chamber. I’m evacuating them now.”

“What happened?”

“I don’t know.”

“I’ll be there soon,” Hernan promised.

Kirk knew it would most likely be some time before Hernan could group up with him for the people on the collapsing bridge needed him more.

He reached for the last person to carry out. The person coughed. She wheezed in Kirk’s ear as she was lifted.

“B-Bat…”

“Please hold on.”

“Batman…out…now.”

_‘Out?’_

Kirk paused at the sudden hum that buzzed inside the chamber. It was coming back to life. Lights for switches he did not know lit up and the buzz turned into a roar of turbines.

They needed to get out, but the chamber was closing. A door Kirk didn’t notice before was sliding shut. Quickly, he threw the woman past the sliding door and out the chamber. It was a reckless move but it was the only move he could have done. The opening wasn’t wide enough for the both of them to leap through nor was there enough time for them to slide out one at a time. Only one of them could have made it.

The door locked shut.

There must be another way out – a ventilation system, a button, a code. Kirk swiftly inspected the various switches and buttons, but nothing was labeled. It was as bizarre as it was unhelpful. The roaring of the chamber grew louder as Kirk could feel the very floor of it begin to tremble.

“What’s that noise? Kirk!”

“The chamber closed,” Kirk replied calmly despite electrical sparks zapping at his fingertips.

“What?”

“There must be a way out. Don’t worry about me, Hernan.”

“I’m coming to get you.”

“No!” Kirk yelled. Kirk hardly ever yelled. Even when he was angry or upset, he never did raise his voice. The shock of it stilled every fiber in Hernan’s being from letting go of the bridge.

“No,” Kirk repeated. “You can’t, Hernan. The people need you right now.”

Hernan looked through all the concrete to see that there were still a number of people all scurrying to evacuate the bridge. He wanted to yell at them to move. He wanted to go up and blow everyone to either side so he could fly away.

But there was no time. There was no—

“Hernan—”

“No, I will get to you. I will…”

“Hernan,” Kirk coughed through the building clouds of smoke, “remember that night ten years ago at the docks?”

Hernan held his breath. His chest tightened.

“The kindness you showed me – the compassion… Hernan, be their hero.” Kirk felt his knees give in as the air suffocated him. “You… you were always… mine.”

“Kirk!”

There was a blast – a cacophonic boom that shook Hernan to the core. Static of the dead line filled his ears, and he knew…

He knew.

He felt the weight of the bridge upon his shoulders. He felt every pounding thud of numerous feet upon the concrete he held. He felt his chest tighten for the breaths he could not catch, and he felt like he was falling for how low his stomach sank.

Never had he felt so weak.

“It’s Clear!” Hernan heard the commanding officer yell.

He let go.

In less than a minute, the middle of the bridge collapsed under its weight. Beams snapped and concrete slabs splintered. The bridge looked as if it were collapsing in on itself. The waters had been cleared hours before so there were no causalities as the debris plummeted into the river, but Hernan did not stay to watch it fall.

He did not talk to the rescue crew, nor did he stay to make sure everyone was safe. He left. He shot through the sky towards what was once STAR Labs.

Only two firetrucks could be spared as they tried to control the fire that was still burning.

With one deep breath, Hernan blew out the flames before falling to his knees to sort through the rubble himself. He tuned out the firemen who most likely yelled at him to hold on. The rubble had yet to cool, but he didn’t listen.

All that mattered, all Hernan could think about, was finding him.

The debris was thick, and Hernan’s hands blackened from the smoke and ash. He coughed at the air – choked on the tears he held back.

When he found him, the world seemed to still. No one spoke. No one said a word as Superman held a charred face between his fingers.

_‘Kirk…’ _

No one knew.

_‘Kirk…’_

No one.

‘_Mi vida…’_

There were no more heroes.

* * *

* * *

-Chapter One-

“Late night?” There was a small grunt of acknowledgement but nothing further. Nonetheless, any sound of acknowledgement was an improvement to Bruce simply ignoring him until Clark touched something he wasn’t supposed to or made a particularly smart comment to whatever was currently on the various monitors of the bat-computer.

Currently Clark could gather that Bruce was in the middle of profiling a suspect by the birth certificate, car title, house title, graduation photo (did he even need that), and various other pictures and documents with the same name.

“What did he do to you?”

“Ruin my morning.”

_‘Humor. He’s in a good mood,’_ Clark thought before the imposing chair turned and cowled eyes narrowed at him.

“You brought Chinese food.” Not a question, but a fact.

“I did.” Clark produced a bag of take out behind the folding of his cape. “It’s from your favorite place.”

“How would you know my favorite place?”

“I may not be the world’s greatest detective, but even this investigative reporter finds a way to make a living.”

“By knowing Batman’s favorite fast-food places?”

“Now that would be a great article.” Clark quipped easily before extending the bag out towards Bruce. “Am I wrong?”

Somewhat begrudgingly, Bruce took the offered bag and looked at its contents. “Not my favorite place.”

“But at least your favorite dish.”

Bruce didn’t comment. Instead he took out the two separate dishes Clark brought. Bruce keeping the Mu Shu pork for himself confirmed that Clark was right. Bruce handed Clark the orange chicken.

“While you are here, what can you gather from these work papers here?” Bruce turned back to his monitors. There was no exchange of a simple thank you, nor asking if Clark was staying.

Bruce assumed it.

At first Clark thought it was arrogance, but after the years of having worked with Bruce, he knew it was only a little arrogance but mostly it was trust. Clark split his chopsticks in two, and fell into work beside Bruce.

He did not know how much time had passed before he was placing the empty food containers in the takeout bag. It was less cleanup for Alfred.

“Watch Tower to Batman.” The monitors suddenly lit up with Diana. Her blue eyes focused on Batman before shifting to Clark. “It’s good that you’re here too, Superman. We have a visitor who is adamant on seeing the both of you.”

“Who might this visitor be?”

Diana’s eyes shifted from the camera to a little ways behind her.

“Waller.” Clark was surprised.

“Hello, Batman, Superman. You may know my counterpart on your earth very well, however, I am not that person. I come from a universe parallel to yours.”

“Which universe?” Clark asked since it would not be the first parallel universe they have heard of.

“It is not one you have ever been to before. Please, may we speak in person? I – my people are in great need of your help.”

Clark looked over at Bruce. His face was cowled once more, but Clark could see through it. Not with his x-ray vision. He didn’t need it to know Bruce was reluctant to go. Nonetheless, the two boom-tubed to the Watch Tower where another universe’s Waller stood before them. Although she was not the Waller they knew, she looked very much the same.

“My name is Amanda Waller, former President of the United States, and I come to you seeking your help. The Superman on our earth has gone rogue. He has always been difficult, but never like this. Just before I came here to speak to you, I was told he burned down the White House.”

“Why should we help you?” Batman was the first to speak.

Waller looked almost appalled. “Are you not the Justice League of this earth?”

“How do you know we are not like your League?”

“I know a great deal about your League of heroes. I would not have come here seeking help otherwise. I know that this would not be the first parallel universe you have helped.”

“Then please forgive us for being cautious.” Clark stepped in. “You seem to know a great deal about us, but we do not know anything about your earth. Can you tell us why your Superman went rogue?”

“He – He’s not like you. He believed in hard justice. He was judge, jury, and executioner. Out of concern for the safety of my country, my national defense team came up with plans on how to take care of Superman should he ever truly cross the line. But then, a little over a year ago, when Earth needed him most, he had sacrificed everything to protect it.

“So, I had gotten rid of the plans. I decided to trust him again, but then my term ended and another president stepped in. He unfortunately did not share my sympathy. He was reckless with the League. So much so, that when our universe’s Batman died… I do not know what words were exchanged between the President and Superman, but Superman had gone on a rage. Washington ran red that day. He once again became an executioner but bloodier than ever before.”

Waller’s dark eyes averted solemnly down at her clasped hands. She looked remorseful as if she blamed herself for what had happened. Clark had interviewed many people in his line of work, so he would say he was a good judge of character, but with Waller, Clark couldn’t be sure. His universe’s Waller was aloof and always seemed several steps ahead of him. There was no guarantee this Waller was just the same, if not a better actress.

Waller, perhaps sensing Clark’s wariness, looked up again and said, “Look, I do not seek you to destroy him nor put him down. He is good. He wants to be. He is just lost, misguided. He lost someone dear to him, and we lost the only person who could placate him. Please, I do not wish for anyone else to get hurt, but I need your help. I cannot reach him alone.” 

“And if we cannot reach him in the end, what do you wish for us to do then?” Batman asked evenly. If he sympathized or believed her story at all, it did not show.

Waller took a deep breath. Her dark eyes were solemn as she replied. “If there is no other choice, then we must restrain him by force. I mean it when I say I do not wish for anyone else to get hurt.”

“That may not be an option,” Batman said bluntly. “Are you still willing to risk us intervening?”

“Yes, I would not have come here otherwise.” Her once solemn eyes turned determined.

Clark could feel Bruce’s gaze on him, but he did not know what to say. He didn’t know what to say then, nor what he could say to this other Superman. To have lost his Batman… Clark didn’t know what he would have done himself, but he wanted to try.

“I’ll go.” Clark conceded.

Bruce’s gaze narrowed, but he didn’t refute him. He didn’t question Clark, and a part of Clark wanted to believe it was because Bruce already knew why.

“We’ll go.” Clark looked over at his Bruce at last.

Bruce nodded. “Very well.”

“Thank you.” Amanda released the breath she had been holding. “Thank you both so much. However, there is one more thing you should know. This Superman is not you from another universe, Kal-El. In my universe, you were never born. The last son of Krypton, is the son of General Zod.”

_ ‘Zod…’_ Clark tried to suppress the official urge to assume the worst of a son of Zod. He knew Zod. He had fought with him in the Phantom Zone. He had prevented him from escaping into his world. To know that in another universe, his – his parents…

“In the birthing pod that brought our Superman to our Earth, we were able to decipher the last moments of Krypton,” Waller began to explain seeing the confusion on Clark’s face. “In the video we saw General Zod place his DNA into the pod instead of your father Jor-El. Kal-El, our Superman, he’s your half-brother.”

“That – that can’t be.”

“I’m sorry, but in my universe, that is what happened.”

That couldn’t be. Clark couldn’t believe it. He knew his parents died. It was the same as this universe. His world was destroyed, but knowing that he – his parents’ sacrifice was for naught…

Clark’s train of thought was suddenly derailed by the steady hand upon his shoulder. It was not tender, nor was it strong, but it was there. It was firm.

Knowing it was Bruce was more than enough. Clark knew Bruce would follow him still if he decided to go.

“We’ll go.” Clark made up his mind.

It was the right thing to do.

“Thank you,” Waller said once more. “I hope you can save him.”

Waller took out a small device that looked akin to a remote with few buttons.

“This will take you to my universe,” Waller explained. “It has charge for five more trips. One for each of us to my universe, and two more for your return.”

Clark nodded. Waller activated the device which opened a dimensional portal in front of them. Clark felt his cape behind him whip forward as the portal pulled him closer. He could easily fight against it, but he let the portal take hold of him. He surged forward into the abyss, and within seconds he felt air against his face. He landed on his feet.

When he looked beside him, Bruce was there. He looked unfazed as he surveyed the empty field they found themselves in. Clark did the same.

“We’re outside of Metropolis.” Clark realized when he saw the golden globe atop of the Daily Planet. But as Clark saw more, he heard more as well. There was crying – sobbing of a man begging for his life. Someone needed help.

“You go,” Bruce said. “You have a better chance at neutralizing Superman than I do.”

“And you?”

“I have some things I’d like to look into.” Before Clark could ask, Bruce was already walking away, and the cries were growing more desperate.

Clark took off. He trusted Bruce. He knew he would be fine, but even then, he kept an ear out for him should he need his help.

“No, please! Help!” the cries turned into gasping sobs. “I’m s-sorry… I won’t… I won’t do it again.”

“You’ve had your chance.”

“No! I promise!”

“Let him go.” Clark landed upon the roof where a man was dangling from the side of it. His face was puffed red from being hung upside down for so long. The man who held him turned his focus on Clark. His eyes were blue, like his, but the emotion he saw behind them…

“Let him go,” Clark repeated.

The man huffed arrogantly. “Aren’t you a little too old to be parading in pajamas?”

Clark refrained from commenting on his uniform. If this person would not listen to him outright, then Clark would simply have to convince him another way.

In a blink of an eye, Clark had overpowered the offender. He knocked him back from the edge and took hold of the man held hostage. Those blue eyes blinked in surprise before looking back at Clark.

Clark was able to place the victim down on the roof safely before he felt the air knocked out of him. The offender was strong as his fist did not break against Clark’s gut, but propelled him backwards. Clark felt his body fly through the air without his aid. Immediately he tried to level himself, but the offender continued to come at him.

He was slammed back down into the roof. The cement cracked from the sheer force of the blow. If Clark were a normal man, he would have died immediately.

A strong arm pressed against his throat with the intent to cut off his air supply, but Clark did not blink. He looked at eyes, blue as own before him, angered and confused.

“Dios mío, what are you?”

“I’m your half-brother.”


	2. Chapter 2

Clark found himself looking over what was Metropolis. The city looked the same as his down to the very last building, tree, and public bench. The Daily Planet’s golden globe still towered over the skyline. It was supposed to be a beacon of truth, journalists liked to think. What it represented in this world, Clark had yet to find out.

“Look familiar?”

Clark turned to see this world’s Superman. He was very different from Clark himself. His skin tone was darker, with jutted high cheekbones, and a dark bearded face. What caught Clark’s attention the most was how tired his features looked. He looked haggard. He looked older than Clark by the lines of his face, but there was a weathered hardness there solidified by determined blue eyes.

As for Superman’s questions, Clark turned back to the city very like his own on the surface, but god only knew what this Superman saw.

“Yes, it does resemble my Metropolis,” Clark said. “And this building we’re standing on now is your home base I presume?”

“Yes, this is the Justice Tower. It was constructed by the former president as a base for what she called the Justice League.”

“So, your president formed the League?”

“No, we were friends before the League. Waller merely gave us a title and a place in order to appear less intimidating to the public. To save you from guessing as well as my time, it didn’t work. Now are you going to tell me who you are?”

Clark’s brows furrowed. “I’m Kal-El, Superman from a parallel universe to your own. I am a Kryptonian just like you. My mother is Lara-El, but my father is Jor-El.”

His shock was visible as he looked Clark over more carefully this time. A series of emotions showed through those blue eyes. First surprise, then realization, and finally acceptance.

“My name is Hernan Guerra. My mother and father were migrant workers, and I have one older sister,” Hernan said. “I do not know you as a brother, nor do I have the desire of knowing you.”

Hernan’s words were harsh and his stance was defensive, but he didn’t move to attack Clark like he had before.

“If you are not part of my universe, then why are you here?”

“After what you were doing to that judge, it should be clear why I’m here.”

“To obstruct justice? Go back to your own universe. You do not belong here.”

“Justice? Is that what is to you – dangling men over buildings?”

“Justice is sentences not being bought.” Hernan was firm as Clark was in no position to say that judge was not guilty. Clark wanted to say that even if that judge were taking bribes, then he had a right to a fair trial of his own where his peers could find him guilty or not. It didn’t give the right for Hernan to batter him or even worse.

However, before Clark could say anything, Hernan spoke up.

“It is clear the way the world works in mine and yours is different. What authority do you have to tell me what is just in my world? You are but a stranger, brother or not.”

“Then show me what justice is in your world. Maybe you are correct.”

“And if you decide I’m not, then what?”

“Then I will have to stop you.”

Hernan laughed incredulously. Clark wasn’t moved.

“Very well.” Hernan conceded. “Since my father told me to always be kind to family, I will humor you. Let me show you justice in my world.”

* * *

The two flew over Metropolis. Nothing immediately stood out to Clark.

“You seem surprised.”

“I must admit, this is not my first time in another universe where a Superman has taken over. Usually I can spot the differences right away, but I can’t see anything different from here,” Clark explained.

“What happened to those other Supermen?”

“They’re locked away by the will of their people.”

“And their world, what the Supermen have made it, was it truly tyrannical?”

Clark looked over at Hernan seeming unsure of whether to answer truthfully. Instead he said, “I’d like to get a closer look if you don’t mind.”

“You may, but I might suggest a change of clothes.”

Clark looked down at his uniform. He supposed he would get a lot of looks dressed like this.

“Would you have a spare change of clothes?”

“We’ve been brothers for less than hour and you’re already stealing my clothes.” Hernan tutted, but nonetheless veered off back towards the Tower.

_‘A sense of humor.’_ Clark followed Hernan’s lead. He supposed that was a good sign.

Hernan lent Clark a pair of jeans and a simple dark shirt. They weren’t too different in size. The shirt fit over his chest and shoulder just fine. However, Hernan was a little taller leaving Clark to roll the bottom of the jeans up a little. Hernan also gave him a pair of boots with dry crusted dirt around the sides, and deep creases splintering across the foot.

Clark brushed off the crusted dirt and laced them up. “These work boots?”

“Yeah, my father owns his own farm now. I help him when I can.” Hernan entered the room when he assumed Clark was dressed. He himself hadn’t changed.

“What, that’s your disguise?” Clark asked.

“Unfortunately, I can’t go with you. They know my face.”

“Hm, I might have a trick to teach you.” From the folds of his cape, Clark fished out a pair of glasses he kept there just in case. He handed them over to Hernan to take.

“Glasses?” Hernan looked incredulously through them. They were non-prescription so they didn’t distort his view.

“You’d be surprised how well they work. I’ll lend them to you, in exchange for your clothes.”

Hernan huffed, but he didn’t give them back. When he left the room, Clark assumed it was to change himself. A few minutes later, Hernan returned looking much like Clark except he had a black jacket. It wasn’t as long as the one Clark saw him in earlier, but it nonetheless drew a questioning look from Clark. He must really like his jackets.

“What?” Hernan prompted when he noticed Clark’s look. He pulled out the glasses Clark lent him and placed them on. The fitting wasn’t awkward, and actually suited him.

“Better.” Clark assured. “Shall we go?”

“After you.” Hernan held the door open. The two walked out the front door like any other regular person. Hernan kept his head down as he kept close to Clark’s side. He let Clark take the lead since it was him who wanted to see Metropolis on the street level.

The first thing Clark noticed was the traffic level.

“Are there usually not many people out at this time?”

“Things have been a little rough lately,” Hernan answered. “Most stay indoors if they can help it.”

“Because of you?”

“They do not need to fear me, but that doesn’t stop some people from jumping at shadows.” Hernan continued ahead of Clark. “Those who need to fear me, already know.”

Clark didn’t like the sound of that, but continued on. He looked through some of the buildings and true enough, he saw many people.

Clark could see many of them huddled around their tv screens watching the news, or whispering on the phone. Some were on computers furiously typing on forums or blogs. No matter where they went, Clark heard them. He heard them afraid, and unsure of what was to come. This war Hernan had waged against the government was not over.

However, that wasn’t enough for Clark to act just yet. There were many other people at work. It seemed the world was not so chaotic that everything stopped working.

There were people still walking on the street, driving their cars, or riding their bike. There were even some relaxing in the park, and kids playing on the playground. It didn’t seem like a fearful place, and yet it also didn’t look like a city that held millions of people.

It seemed split. Half afraid of the future, and others who were perhaps optimistic or trusted Hernan to protect them.

“Should we stop for a drink?” Clark suggested when they ran across his favorite diner. He was surprised to see it here, but there it was at the same street corner.

“Tired already?” Hernan teased.

“No, I just know this place – from my world.”

“Alright,” Hernan conceded. The two walked in and took a seat in one of the empty red booths. There were a few other customers, but not as many as Clark was used to. This place was always packed.

Despite the low traffic, the place was still as Clark remembered. The tables had sticky patches of dried maple syrup from the breakfast shift, and the thin red leather of the booth seats were covered in stretch marks. Some parts were cracked revealing the foam underneath, but Clark didn’t mind. It was homey in a way.

Meanwhile Hernan raised a questioning brow towards the booth, but nonetheless sat down with a sight. Not used to provincial life, Clark supposed.

The two ordered just cups of coffee. Clark poured a little sugar and milk in his. Hernan took his black. Surprisingly the waitress didn’t lift a brow when she looked at Hernan. Either the glasses worked or she just didn’t care at this point. Hernan thought the latter, Clark the former.

“Do you ever come here?” Clark asked, keeping the conversation light for now.

“No, I haven’t come here.” Hernan replied. “If I leave the Tower for personal reasons, it’s to visit my family.”

“You’re very close to your family?”

“Aren’t you?” Hernan threw back at him.

Clark remained calm however as he replied. “Yes, I am. Although I also have a civilian job to pay the bills.”

“Really? Your government doesn’t fund you?”

“No, I try to refrain from having any governmental ties. If government should need my help, I can, but I don’t want to have a political agenda. That’s not what I’m for.”

“That must be nice.” Hernan tapped his cup thoughtfully. “I wish I was given that choice.”

“You weren’t?”

“I suppose I was, but at the time, it seemed more beneficial to work with the President than to go against her. I remember then I didn’t want to be labeled as a team, but my partner… my world’s Batman thought being labeled as a group could earn the trust of the people. People at the time thought of us as monsters or gods. Proving to them that we could work under the law, would perhaps quell their fears.”

“That didn’t work?”

“I think for some it did. I’ll concede we had low approval ratings, but they were better than before. Perhaps a few more years, and they would have been better, but time is funny that way. You never have enough.”

Clark refrained from commenting on Hernan’s cynical remark. It was hard to share words of optimism or even judgmental ones considering Clark hadn’t been through the things Hernan has.

Instead, he took a long sip of his cup before the waitress came around again to refill their cups. Clark thanked her before his attention was drawn to the TV. Once again, it was some broadcasting of the news. He hadn’t seen anything else yet. It made Clark wonder whether there were no other channels anymore.

“You’ve taken over the TV,” Clark surmised.

“What makes you say that?”

“All the screens I’ve seen only televise the news, not only that but I’d say you’ve taken over the news as well. The news anchors seem rather stiff.”

“They’ve always been stiff.”

“Did your world news always report on such a global scale?”

“Is that a criticism? If we are to care about the world, then shouldn’t we know about the world? The news and media itself had become too individualized. It focused on specific actors, rather than the whole picture. Take a political bill for instance. News reporters will say this senator has said this about the bill, but it doesn’t list what senators favor or don’t favor the bill. It doesn’t even explain the bill in its entirety. So yes, I changed some of the media around.”

“Well… I can’t disagree with your criticism of media but is that your decision to make?”

“If someone disagrees with me, they can say so.”

“Not if they are too afraid to,” Clark said. “I can hear their whispers; your people are scared.”

“You think I am deaf to their concerns? They are scared of change. They are scared of liberties being taken away, but how much liberty should one person have before it affects everyone else? We say human freedom is freedom of choice even if those choices are wrong, but should we have the liberty to make wrong choices? Isn’t that what laws are for?”

“So you are making laws to limit bad choices?”

“Essentially.”

“Then how does that make you different from a god?”

“For starters, I’m very much real.”

Clark felt his coffee had gone cold. Nonetheless, he drank it down. The artificial sugar tasted sickeningly sweet as if it were trying too hard to mask the bitterness of the coffee itself.

He set his empty cup down. “Alright then, you’ve shown me Metropolis. Now show me the rest of your world.”

* * *

They had arrived in the late afternoon as night fell swiftly. Bruce descended upon the city cowled and his black Kevlar wings spread. He landed on the edge of the riverbank soundlessly. From the time Clark had departed from him, Bruce was able to ask Waller more about the eventful day when her universe’s Batman died. She had told him it started at the Queensland Bridge.

It was in the same place as it was in his world. The only difference there seemed to be was that his was still standing before he left.

Bruce saw there was no construction signs but only signs of “ROAD CLOSED” and barriers to prevent any kind of traffic.

_‘Odd.’ _

In his world the Queensland Bridge was used by thousands of commuters every day. For such an important bridge to be destroyed, Bruce assumed the city would be quick to start reconstructing again.

It must have to do with whatever this world Superman has been up to. The chaos he has caused probably distracted city residents from worrying about the bridge. All but one of them at least.

“I know you’re there.” Bruce didn’t make a move to turn around to face the stranger. He didn’t need to. He heard them move from their hiding place. Their stance shaky, but their voice firm.

“I have a gun.”

It was a woman. Bruce raised his gauntlet hands with his fingers spread apart. “I am unarmed.”

“Who are you?”

“I was sent to investigate the day Batman died.”

“I’ve been wondering the same thing too.” Bruce heard her place her gun away and approach him. The confidence in her stride matched her tone when Bruce finally turned around to greet the stranger.

Seeing his cowled face, her step did not falter. It only earned an unimpressed raise of her dark brow. She outstretched her hand to shake.

“I’m Lois Lane, reporter from the Daily Planet. Perhaps we can help each other.

Bruce shook her hand. He was surprised by who she was, but it didn’t show. Of course Lois Lane, no matter the universe, had some fire to her.

“Would you happen to have footage of that day?” Bruce asked.

“Of course.” Lois rummaged through her purse before pulling out her camera. It was a big, bulky hand-held camcorder. It was something Bruce recognized to be at least eight or nine years old in his own world. Was there a technological gap?

She showed him the footage she had from that day. Bruce watched the other earth’s Superman fly in and hold up the center of the bridge where the main support had fallen. What he assumed was the deceased Batman, arrived shortly after and helped in evacuation efforts. Then something had happened. Their Batman had left the bridge with wings unlike Bruce’s own.

“Do you know what happened here?”

“They were called by the President. There was a distress alert at STAR Labs that needed immediate attention. Batman left to handle it, while Superman stayed behind,” Lois explained. “Then there was—”

Bruce saw it. A large explosion happened to take down the support columns on either side of Superman. Any hopes of leaving to help Batman dashed. He had to stay.

That seemed rather inconvenient.

Lois stopped the video. “Batman died in an explosion at STAR Labs, while Superman… he had stayed to hold the bridge until every last person was clear.”

She placed her camcorder away. Her eyes had lost its hard edge and her voice grew softer. “I… I wasn’t always Superman’s biggest fan. Few people were. He seemed to be unstoppable, doing things only for public praise and acknowledgement but never for the actual people themselves. And then there came a day, when the world needed him most. We saw him wounded, and bleeding for the first time. It was astounding. We had made Superman this way, we tried to take him down, but even after all of that, he still saved us by giving up his last ties to his original planet. It was then, I had grown to see that perhaps there was more to what he was doing.

“But even so, my father was elected president on a no-hero platform. Batman died and slandered as incompetent and our Superman flew off the rails. He once again became judge, jury, and executioner.”

“What do you wish would happen?”

“I wish my father and Superman could come to terms with one another. What Superman has done is wrong, but what my father has done is unspeakable as well.” She clamped her hands together tightly. “I hate to admit it, but the world needs a Superman – someone to give us hope again.”

Bruce nodded silently before deciding he got enough.

“The world doesn’t need a superman, Ms. Lane.” Bruce got out his grappling hook. “Sometimes it just needs a hero.”

Before Lois could ask Bruce about himself, Bruce grappled away into the shadows. Something didn’t seem right about the bridge. To confirm his suspicions, the next place to look was STAR Labs.


	3. Chapter 3

Clark followed Hernan to the other side of the world. As Metropolis grew dark, this side of the world was bright with morning light. He landed soundlessly in a muddy clearing, and people ran to greet him. Hernan was no longer disguised. He wore his navy uniform and his long dark jacket.

Children pulled at his coat while elders touched the top of Hernan’s head. He bowed his head for them, and they smiled.

At least that had not changed, Clark thought. Hernan appeared to be a symbol of hope to them. He wasn’t shunned or feared, but rather they were happy to see him. Hernan in turn had smiled back.

It was the first time Clark saw it. It wasn’t a smug smirk, nor was there a hint of pride. It was genuine as he spoke to them in their tongue as they guided him towards their village.

“Have you ever visited other parts of the world?”

“Yes, very often,” Clark replied. “I’m not tied to one country. I protect all countries.”

“I see, and what about out of the suit?”

“Not very often.” Clark had to admit. His free time was limited if nonexistent. He did not have the luxury to travel.

“So the only time you’ve ever experienced another way of life was—?”

“I have seen my world.” Clark interjected between clenched teeth. “Yes, I was in suit during the time, but I am not blind nor deaf to people who live in other countries. It’s why I help to build bridges, dams, and irrigation systems around the world.”

Hernan seemed mildly impressed. “I see, and are your efforts televised?”

“Not if I can help it.”

“I suggest when you go back to your world, to visit it as a civilian, as just a man. Walk as they do. You look upon the world as if it were under a microscope, but you do not see it from their eyes.”

“I think you’re being a little presumptuous.”

“Am I? I’m not the one who rushed into your world claiming your methods are wrong.”

“Let’s not forget, I’m here because I was asked to be by someone of your world,” Clark raised his voice enough to draw some eyes. “And I’m listening to you as someone who is willing to hear your side. Do not be so quick to presume me as an enemy.”

“If I thought you as an enemy, you wouldn’t still be standing,” Hernan said with such cockiness, Clark wasn’t sure whether he was being serious or not. For now, he favored the former having remembered what Hernan had said about those who knew to fear him.

Hernan may have done good things, and this may be an attempt to prove that he has done good, but the fact that Hernan would cut down anyone who should oppose him was something Clark couldn’t let slide.

Nonetheless, he kept close to him for now.

Hernan’s derogatory smirk lessened as he spoke softly down to a young girl who still clung to his coat. Her eyes were wide with fear when she looked upon Clark. He was a stranger in her land, her world.

Despite not liking Hernan, Clark started to wonder whether being here really was the best thing to have done.

Then she suddenly smiled, laughed, and scampered off.

“What did you tell her?” Clark asked suspiciously.

“I apologized for your indecent attire. Please tell me, do people in your world usually wear their underwear on the outside?”

“It’s not underwear.”

Hernan scoffed. “Sure, hermano.”

Clark was taken back a little by being called a brother. He knew they were technically half-brothers, but he didn’t expect Hernan to accept it so quickly or even call him one.

“Venga, I’m putting you to work.” Hernan called out to him. “Since you’ve done this before, this should be no problem.”

Hernan gestured over at a pile of cut bamboo. They worked together along with other people in the village to build an irrigation system. Currently the people walked for miles to the nearest stream to collect water to water their crops. It takes up most of their day, and sometimes the journey was dangerous. So Hernan got down on his knees in all the mud and grime to plant the bamboo roots deep so the rain could not easily wash them away.

His clothes would need a wash, but Hernan didn’t seem to mind. Clark was right there with him, just as covered in muck. No one could distinguish his red spandex any more. Still, Clark got some laughs from giggling children watching them. They pointed their little fingers at him, so Clark knew they were talking about him.

Whatever Hernan said, whether he really did apologize for Clark’s attire or not, got the kids going. Clark couldn’t be mad, even if he was the butt of whatever joke they were circulating.

They were nearing a row of crops Clark wasn’t familiar with. The fields were vast and green, and Clark had to wonder whether Hernan helped to make the rows or plant the seeds too. After all, this couldn’t be the first time Hernan arrived. The people knew him. He knew their language, and the irrigation system they were working on stretched on for miles. This wasn’t just started that day. It had to have been done over a series of days, maybe even weeks.

Suddenly Hernan’s head shot up. Clark looked over at Hernan, deep in the mud but his head raised as if he were listening to something.

He spoke quickly to the man beside him, and he waved Hernan off.

“We need to go.” Hernan told Clark. He grabbed his coat he had left to the side, and flew off with a force that made the ground tremble. Clark wasn’t too far behind.

“What’s going on?” Clark tried to yell to Hernan, but Hernan didn’t stop to explain. He flew to what was the other side of the world at lightning speed before swooping low to the ground.

Train tracks.

Clark looked on. They approached a train heading fast down the tracks. Clark could hear the people pounding at the glass screaming.

“Hold on to something tight,” Clark warned them.

Their eyes grew wide at the sight of not only their Superman, but another man who flew beside him. They grabbed on tightly to whatever they could, and braced for impact.

“Stop this train,” Hernan ordered Clark. “I’ll get the other one. If we work fast enough, we can hopefully slow them down enough to cause the least amount of injuries, but fast enough to avoid collision.”

“Understood.” Clark flew down to the front of the train. The conductor looked at him surprised.

“Hold on,” Clark told him. He braced for impact, and Clark began to apply an opposing force to the front of the train. He followed Hernan’s instructions to try to slow it down rather than completely stopping it. Even so, the train still jolted by the sudden force, and he could hear people scream.

Another series of screams could be heard behind him, and Clark looked over his shoulder to see Hernan doing the same thing to another train on the same track.

They were coming closer to each other, and the train was nowhere near stopping safely. Clark applied more pressure. The wheels grated against the tracks, causing sparks to fly, and emitted a screeching sound that would make anyone cover their ears.

Clark clenched his jaw, and flattened his palms against the metal. He felt it give way to his hands, denting but not breaking.

_‘Come on!’ _He turned to look back at Hernan again. They would collide any moment. The screeching grew louder, from both the wheels grating against the tracks, and the people screaming onboard.

Still Clark held on tightly, and with a final surge, pushed with a force that stopped the train. The cars jolted together, colliding with a force that made Clark worry, but none of the cars broke nor fell over.

“Nice job.”

Clark looked over, and there was Hernan with his back pressed against Clark’s train. They had stopped the collision just in time.

Clark finally let go. The front of the train where he was holding onto looked wrinkled. The metal was warped beyond repair, but at least it seemed like many of the people would be fine.

“Check to see if there are any wounded on your side.” The mirth from Hernan’s blue eyes were gone as he was already flying down to help people leave the train. He ripped off the doors, and a flooding of people jumped off.

Sirens sounded down the track. Ambulances, fire trucks, and police were on their way. Above them was the loud whirring sound of copters with various news logos on them. Were they there the entire time?

Clark didn’t take too long to contemplate the matter. He went to do the same as Hernan. He opened the doors, and helped people out. He checked the wounded, and instructed the emergency teams where to locate the ones who needed a professional team to remove them.

When everything seemed under control, Clark felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Time to go,” Hernan said. He departed the scene quietly, and Clark followed after him. They arrived back at the tower, and Hernan tossed him a towel.

“You can stay in the guest room.” He indicated down a hallway. “Second to last door on your left.”

“Thank you,” Clark replied.

He was thankful for the hot shower, and when he got out, he found a fresh pair of clothes on the bed, and his dirty uniform nowhere to be seen. Hernan must have dropped them off, and hopefully taken his uniform to the washer and not the trash.

He changed into the plain cotton shirt with a familiar band logo on it, and a pair of sweat pants.

_‘At least they still have Linkin Park in this world.’_ Clark smiled down at the shirt.

He left the room, hoping Hernan was okay with Clark leaving it.

The rooms he passed were dark. A thin layer of dust collected on the surfaces meaning no one had lived in them for at least a few weeks. Perhaps Hernan had someone who came to clean the tower every so often, but not recently. Clark couldn’t imagine Hernan doing the work himself.

The hallway led to the open living room he had seen before. The room was cast in artificial blue light as the news was projected on the screen. It would seem even Hernan had limited channels.

On the screen was the coverage of the train collision. They zoomed in on Clark’s face, as the woman news anchor asked.

“Who is this man? Could he possibly be another Superman? Survivors of the train incident reported they saw him flying just as fast as the Superman we know. He’s undoubtedly as strong as well, but Superman has yet to say anything to reporters on this matter.”

She went on, but Clark had tuned her out until she said, “I’m Lois Lane reporting to you live from the Daily Planet.”

Lois? Clark looked again. She looked different. Her face perhaps not so much, but her hair was a short bob, and brown. It wasn’t long nor dark, and perched across her nose were a pair of red glasses. The most striking difference Clark found were her eyes. They were harsh with little signs of empathy. They were angry and hard. Clark had never seen his Lois with such eyes. He has seen her frustrated or angry before, but never like this.

“Do you know her?” Hernan asked from a dark corner of the room. He held a tumbler glass of whiskey in his hand, and wore a clean pair of his uniform without the jacket. Was he planning to do more tonight?

“I do,” Clark admitted. “I… we dated for a while in my world. We were even engaged once.”

Dark brows shot up in surprise followed by an incredulous laugh. “You must be kidding.”

“No, I’m not.”

Hernan’s laughter grew. He shook his head in disbelief and looked at the screen before looking back at Clark.

“We – You, with her?” Hernan took a sip from his glass as if to wash down whatever thoughts he had running through his head. “You want a drink?”

“No, I’m fine, thanks.” Clark turned it down. He walked further into the living room while Hernan poured himself another glass.

The living room was large with a semi-circle, dark couch taking up most of the space. Behind it was floor to ceiling tall windows that overlooked Metropolis. It was quiet a view. It was one Clark would associate with wealth, as did most of the interior of the Tower seemed to exude.

To the side, was a shelf of pictures. Clark stepped closer to take a look at them.

“Is this your League?”

Hernan walked over to where Clark stood. “Sí, they were my League. Batman, and Wonder Woman.”

Clark nodded. It was the trinity. It would seem no matter the universe there was always a trinity.

“Is it the same in your world?” Hernan asked.

“Yes, although we have a few more heroes on our team.”  
“Really?” Hernan was surprised. He looked down at his glass as if contemplating if there were more super being in his world too.

Clark continued to look at the picture. Hernan’s Wonder Woman was in the middle with a large smirk crossing her red lips. Her arms were wrapped around both Hernan and her Batman to bring them down to her level, but neither seemed to mind.

Her Batman offered a small smile, while Hernan’s was his characteristic cocky one. Perhaps it really was just a part of his personality.

“You three seem very close,” Clark remarked.

“We are – were very close. They were my family.”

“I’m sorry for your Batman,” Clark said as he saw another picture beside the group one. He didn’t smile at the camera but was busy in a lab. He studied a test tube in his hand as bats, big and small, clung to his uniform. He too was fond of bats it would seem.

Clark felt badly for bringing it up, but he knew eventually he would have to. Hernan grew quiet. He looked away from the pictures, and turned his back altogether to face the view of the city below them.

_‘Too soon.’_ Clark sympathized. “I’m sorry for mentioning it. I… I can’t imagine what I would do if I lost my partner.”

“He wasn’t just that to me. He was…” Hernan didn’t say. He swirled his glass. The clinking of the ice was the only sound in the room, until he set the glass down. His whole body was stiff, and yet tired all at once.

His face was drawn, and under the glow of the tv screen, Clark could see how sleepless those eyes really were. Dark bags hung beneath his eyes for a being who didn’t need to sleep. Sleep was a luxury, as were most things in this Tower, and yet Clark hadn’t seen anyone less happy about opulence than Hernan appeared to be.

There was a forlorn shadow in his eyes that made Clark wonder how deeply wounded was he by the loss of his Batman, of a friend, or perhaps more than that.

“You loved him.” Clark finally said, for there was something in Hernan’s eyes Clark could see within himself.

Those blue eyes looked up at Clark briefly. They were lifeless. “I loved him more than life itself.”

Without a word, Hernan grabbed his tumbler once more, and with a practiced flick of the wrist, tipped the rest of the amber liquid down. Hernan swallowed without a hint of the burn the liquid no doubt made down his throat.

He set the now empty glass down again, eyes looking down at the carpet as if he saw something Clark didn’t. Specks of dust, dirt, something that made Hernan shudder before those tired eyes met Clark’s once more.

“But you already knew that, didn’t you?” There was that smug smirk back on his lips, but the arrogance held no fire behind the broken curve of his lips.

He left Clark alone in the living room with the sound of the news his only company.

Clark didn’t run after him. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t speak. He couldn’t imagine…

Except he could.

He could imagine it for he knew. He knew how Hernan felt. He knew how it felt to feel as if you were sunbathing atop of clouds while your feet were firmly on the ground. He knew what it was like to wake up one day, and suddenly notice more bat-shaped things than ever before. He knew what it was like, to look into someone’s eyes, and see them look back with a kind of fondness that didn’t say, _‘you are perfect’_, but rather, ‘_you are an absolute idiot and yet here we are’_.

Clark knew and yet he couldn’t know. He couldn’t know what it was like to have the rug pulled out from under him and fall into a bottomless abyss. He couldn’t have known what it was like to suddenly feel thrusted in a strange room, and told to feel around in the dark for a light switch that wasn’t there. He couldn’t have known what it was like to feel himself hollowed out by reality and left gaping to a world he no longer wished to be a part of.

No. He couldn’t know, he couldn’t imagine, and therefore, he couldn’t bring himself to saying anything to Hernan. There was nothing he could say that would change anything. What was done was done. There was no changing that.

* * *

Bruce landed soundlessly upon the concrete. Like the bridge, there was no signs of reconstruction. He walked past the barriers and pushed aside the police tape.

What was once STAR labs was now a pile of rubble. In front of rubble however were a series of unlit candles, cards, and dried flowers. There were pictures of a cowled man, similar to Bruce, but not entirely. He wore no cape and his protective eye gear was blood red.

Even though there was no bat symbol over his chest, Bruce could surmise this was this world’s Batman. By the letters, and various prayer cards, Bruce could tell, this Batman was missed.

It was a memorial. There was no evidence of hate nor fear for this night crusader, and Bruce briefly wondered if the people of Gotham would give him memorials too when the time came. The thought passed as quickly as it appeared.

There was more to look at.

The stone slabs jutted out like bluffs, and the steel beams were completely black as the stuck up in bizarre angles. Bruce wasn’t strong enough to move aside the slabs of concrete and steel, but he didn’t need to. He scanned the debris looking for explosive residue.

_‘Odd.’ _Bruce double checked the analysis just to be sure, but he was certain the markings was from a constructed bomb, not a chemical or electrical explosion.

Before Bruce could look any further, laughter suddenly sounded from his right. Bruce lowered himself to the ground, and blended into the shadows. They didn’t spot him. They were four men, Bruce gathered by the sound of their feet, and judging by their lowly laugh, they weren’t friendly either.

“Thank you, Mr. Wayne. I can’t tell you enough how thankful we are for your generous donation. With this money, we can start rebuilding the heart of STAR labs.”

_‘Wayne?’_ Bruce did wonder about himself in this universe, but he didn’t want to know so soon.

The man laughed, and shook both his hands farewell.

“Please give my regards to your wife and son.”

“I will, thank you, and I wish the best to your family too. We live in troubling times, my friend, but it’s these times where a helping hand is most needed.”

“You are very wise, Mr. Wayne.”

“Not nearly as wise as you, I presume.”

There was a shared chuckle, before their final goodbyes. Bruce stayed close to the shadows as he listened for the man’s footfalls. He was heading towards the rubble, towards them.

Bruce held his breath.

“Hey, what have we here, Mr. Fancy suit?” One of the men mocked.

“Hey, I know him! He’s that Wayne guy.”

“Oh, Mr. Wayne. What a pleasant surprise. Not every day we get the honor of meeting someone so esteemed such as yourself.”

“Please, fellas. I’m not looking for any trouble.”

“Well tough shit, Wayne. You think anyone looks for trouble, huh? No, that’s just life.”

Bruce heard the sound of metal grating against concrete, and a switchblade being flipped open.

“Please, there must be another way we can settle this.”

“No, there really isn’t. People like you don’t learn until they’ve been knocked down a peg or two.”

The hooded man rose his metal bat high in the air. He went to slam it down on his poor victim when a loud _bang_ startled him, and a cloud of smoke surrounded all four of them. They coughed profusely.

“Hey!”

“What’s going on?”

“I can’t see anythi—!”

“Hey Char—!”

The one with the bat held it close to him. The man slowly backed up as his eyes darted to and fro and his heart raced.

“Hey, coward!” He shouted.

The smoke was beginning to clear. It dissipated leaving behind his fallen friends, and his victim still crouched on the ground.

“You!” The man seethed. “Did you do this?”

Wayne looked up. His blue eyes were wide with fright, but it wasn’t him he was looking at. The man turned to look behind him only to be knocked to off his feet.

He gasped as the air from his lungs left him, and a dark boot fell heavily against his chest to pin him down. He trembled in fright. The dark figure loomed over him with pointed ears like a devil.

“Wh-who are you?”

Bruce ignored him. “What is your business?”

“W-we were just on patrol. Honest. We don’t mean no harm.”

“Patrol?”

“Yeah, Superman can’t be at all places at once.”

“Superman sent you?”

“He sent out a call, and we answered it.” The man chuckled beneath Bruce’s foot. “Times are changing. No longer should we grovel beneath filthy, rich men like him who hasn’t worked a day in his life. Why should he, any of them, get to wine and dine every night in fancy mansions while my children have to go to bed hungry? No more.

“You can stop me. Silence me all you want, but there are a lot more like me out there. You can’t stop us. You can’t stop what’s coming.”

His laughter grew before Bruce silenced him by slamming his head hard against the ground. He was out.

“Y-You saved me.”

Bruce looked up at the person he was trying his hardest to avoid. The man slowly stood up and brushed off his pants and jacket.

“Thank you, Sir. Thank you so much. I’m Thomas Wayne.” He held his hand out for Bruce to shake. Bruce hesitated.

The man he saw before him looked exactly like the way he had remembered his father. Perhaps his hair was a little grayer around the sides, and the corners of his eyes held more lines, but it was undoubtedly him. It was how he would have looked had he survived.

“I’m sorry. I…” Thomas took his hand back. A black limousine pulled into the parking lot, and an older man hurriedly got out.

“Are you okay, Master Wayne?”

“I’m quite alright, Alfred. There’s no need to fret.” Thomas assured the older man who tried to fuss over him. “I was saved by…”

Thomas had turned around, but Bruce was gone.

“By whom, Sir? You were alone when I pulled up.”

Thomas looked alarmed, but shook it off. “Perhaps I really did hit my head.”

“Please, Sir, let’s get you back home. The Mistress is waiting for you as well as young Master Richard.”

“Yes, Alfred. We should get going.”

Thomas allowed Alfred to lead him to the car. Alfred held the car door open for him, and closed it behind him before getting in the driver’s side and driving off.

Bruce watched them go.


	4. Chapter 4

“Hold still.”

Red eyes looked up followed by an exasperated sigh. “Haven’t you taken enough pictures?”

“No.” There was a small click of the camera, no flash. “There’s still plenty of room on our shelf for more.”

“Why don’t you take more of Bekka then?”

“Bekka’s never home.”

“So you must pick on me?” A dark brow rose along with the upward curl of his lips. He wasn’t mad, and Hernan knew it. Hernan lowered the camera to lean in close. He made sure not to crowd the various bats that clung to him.

“Not all the pictures are for the shelf.”

“I see.” Kirk set down the test tube in its proper rack. “Then might I suggest we take this photoshoot somewhere else? Preferably where there are not so many bats and chemicals.”

“Yes, we can’t let the children see.”

Kirk smacked his shoulder, but that only made Hernan laugh. He wasn’t silenced until fingers bunched in his shirt, and pulled him close. A pair of cool lips pressed against his, and Hernan found his eyes falling shut.

He felt cold fingers caress his cheek, and smooth across his chest. He leaned closer, and a sigh broke across those lips. Hernan wanted to swallow it.

_‘Be their hero, Hernan.’_ Hernan’s eyes snapped open. _‘You were always mine.’_

The pale face crumbled and Hernan looked down at his hands filled with ash.

He woke with a start.

His chest heaved for air though his lungs did not need them, and sweat soaked through his clothes.

“Kirk…” Hernan looked down at his hands.

They were empty.

* * *

* * *

Clark had stayed up. Sleep couldn’t find him. Clark told himself it was natural to have trouble sleeping in an unfamiliar place, but another part of him knew that wasn’t the reason why he hadn’t returned to his room.

He had stayed looking at the pictures. There were only a few. There was enough to fill a shelf for decoration, and nothing more, but Clark knew there was more to it. Somehow Clark felt like he knew a lot more than what Hernan had told him, for he too felt the same.

“Clark.”

Clark rose his head. _‘Bruce.’_

He was calling for him. Clark listened for Hernan in the Tower but the Tower was empty. Hernan must have left while he wasn’t looking. Nonetheless, Clark found the laundry room, and thankfully his uniform was still in one piece. It was clean and dry as Clark slipped it on.

He followed Bruce’s heartbeat. Every person seemed to have a distinct pattern to it, and Clark knew the rhythm of Bruce’s heart better than his own.

Bruce was perched on top of the Daily Planet. He crouched on its golden ribbon wrapped around the planet as he waited for Clark.

“Find anything?” was Bruce’s greeting. Clark shouldn’t have expected any more, and yet his body felt stiff when it landed on the roof.

“I met him,” Clark said. “I spent the day with him.”

“And?” Bruce prompted after Clark fell silent. Clark hadn’t realized he didn’t say anything more. He didn’t know what to say. He was still trying to make up his mind about Hernan.

“I saw you on the news,” Bruce spoke up. “It seems to be the only thing on in this world.”

“Yes,” Clark replied. “But I believe I know why. The Justice League of this world relied on the government to direct them. Once they broke ties, it was hard for them to know where they were needed. So Hernan has the news on everywhere so that he can know where he is needed.

“Before the train incident, we were working on constructing an irrigation system somewhere in Southern Asia. Hernan’s head popped up as if he heard something. I believe it was the closest radio or television he was listening to that reported on the incident.”

“Anything else?”

“Everywhere we went, there seemed to be a mixed sense of uneasiness. Some seemed to go about their daily lives as if nothing were amiss, while others barricaded themselves indoors. One side did not outweigh the other.”

Bruce didn’t say anything for a moment. Clark looked up at him wondering what was going through that cowled head of his, but there was no belying feature on his face. He was a blank slate.

“I investigated the day his Batman died. The timing between the call and the explosion of the two bridge supports were too convenient to be a coincidence. Even the debris from STAR labs had residue of materials typically used in detonative explosives. Whatever happened at STAR labs was not an accident.”

“Are you sure?”

Bruce looked a little offended, but Clark was too shocked by the news to have thought before he spoke.

“Do you think this Superman knows?” Bruce asked.

Clark wasn’t sure. The last time he had spoken to Hernan he was heartbroken. He was lifeless by grief rather than alive with vengeance.

“I don’t know,” Clark replied.

“What will you do with him tomorrow?”

“I…” Clark looked down at his open hands. He was sorry to hear about Hernan’s Batman. He truly was. He couldn’t imagine what he would do if he were in the same position. He might have gone mad too. But if he did, Clark before being stricken by grief, would want someone to stop him.

He gave a piece of kryptonite to Bruce once should he ever go rogue. No matter the reason, Hernan should control himself. With all his powers and gifts, he had a responsibility to no matter how hurt he was or is.

“I need to stop him.” Clark clenched his hands into a determined fist. This was the right thing to do. This was the best thing to do for Hernan.

Bruce didn’t say anything, and the look behind his cowl revealed nothing.

“I will be close should you need me.” Was Bruce’s way to say he didn’t disagree. However, his lack of an explicit agreement, made Clark question how Bruce really felt.

With all his powers, he couldn’t read minds. After years of being together, Clark had thought he understood what was going through that analytical head, but tonight he couldn’t tell. He couldn’t decipher a single thing.

Did Bruce think he was being too brash?

Clark looked up at the man in question, only to find the space Bruce once occupied empty. He always liked to leave just when someone had another thing to add or say. It was as if Bruce always had to have the final word.

It didn’t annoy Clark as much as it did that moment. When he felt like he needed Bruce most, Bruce wasn’t there.

He flew back to the Tower, but Hernan still hadn’t returned. Where was he?

Clark closed his eyes and listened for him. He tried finding a news outlet to hear if Hernan was performing feats on the other side of the globe. He was met with a familiar voice, but knew it wasn’t hers.

“Good evening. I’m Lois Lane reporting to you live from the Daily Planet here in Metropolis. Reports from Capitol Hill on the President Lane’s status remain vague. White House Secretary continued to ensure that the President is alive and well. However, the public remains skeptic after weeks of government silence.”

Clark shifted his weight uneasily, knowing that the President’s disappearance was no doubt linked to Hernan in some way. He had been missing for weeks according to the news, and yet Hernan hadn’t mentioned it once.

The news went on to things less eventful, and so Clark instead tried to listen for cries of help. Perhaps Hernan was dangling a crooked cop off the side a building, but yet again, Clark found nothing.

He was out of ideas. Clark could wait for him there at the Tower. Eventually Hernan would return, right? Or Clark would hear him on the news, or there would be a cry for help that Hernan would answer if he were not the cause of it.

No. Clark tried to shake off such notions. He knew what he had to do, but it wasn’t because Hernan was clearly evil or even a bad person. Hernan didn’t want to be bad, or perhaps Hernan couldn’t see what he was doing as bad. The latter was a scarier thought.

It would be easy enough for Clark to just toss Hernan behind bars if Hernan were truly an inhumane being. He had met himself in other universes crueler than Hernan appeared to be so far. It was easy then, a clear choice to lock them away. But Hernan… Hernan’s heart was in the right place even if his mind was not.

His heart… Clark touched his own and felt it beat beneath his fingers. Hernan was not him from another universe, but maybe, just maybe their beats would be similar enough to distinguish from the millions across the world.

Clark closed his eyes and focused on his own heartbeat before he heard one similar a distance away. Clark flew across the bay to where he pinpointed Hernan standing at the edge of a rotten Gotham dock.

“Come here often?” Clark asked as he landed soundlessly a few feet away. Hernan didn’t turn around to see him. He saw him coming.

“Yes.” Hernan looked down at the dark water lapping at the concrete wall from below. “A little more than ten years ago, I met him here.”

Clark caught a wistful smirk curling the corner of Hernan’s lips.

“He was on the run with no place left to go. A rat in his mouth… I took him in.”

“On the run?”

“Yes, people called him a monster, but others and myself, thought of him as a guardian of this city. When no one could do anything about the crime and corruption, he did.”

“He sounds like a good person.”

“He was, although he would never call himself one.” Hernan’s hands clenched at his sides before he folded them behind his back. “So, what’s the verdict?”

“Excuse me?”

Hernan barked a laugh. “Please, Kal, I know you have been brooding about it all night. Come out with it. What have you decided to do with me?”

“I do not wish to become your enemy, Hernan, but you must understand you can’t keep going on like this.” Clark backed away slowly and braced himself for Hernan to lash out.

Dark brows rose in disbelief at Clark’s shift in body language. Hernan sighed deeply.

“You disappoint me, Kal. I had hoped you would see that what I do is out of necessity.”

“Your actions are rooted in vengeance, Hernan. If you can’t see that, then you are more insane than I thought you were.”

“I am mad! I am furious, and I have every right to be. If you’re not just as mad as me, then you are willfully blind to how the world works.”

“How the world works? Your people are scared.”

“What do you know about people? For a greater part of my life, I walked among them as a man. I saw the worst of them, the best of them, but mostly I saw indifference. People may hope for a change, one might even stand for a change, but what stops change from ever happening is the indifference of the most powerful.

“Governments have the power to change themselves for the better, but they would rather line their pockets, than help a beggar off the street.”

“I know people are not as helpless as you think. There is a power in people greater than the people in power. All they need is a hope to believe, and that is what my symbol stands for: hope.” Clark placed a hand over his family crest. “I am not so naive to believe that my world is perfect, but I have faith that it can change for the better. I have hope that the people can forge the world they wish to live in. It is not my decision alone nor yours of how the world should be. Doing so, you place yourself as a dictator, the very people whom you are against.”

“They can’t forge a world they wish to live in if there are social and legal constructs preventing them. You say people can rise as if it were so simple. We’d have revolutions everyday if that were true.”

“A revolution?” Clark scoffed. “Is that really what you think you’re doing? Please, Hernan, cut the theatrics. You are sad and angry about your Batman’s death, and now you’re taking it out on the government?”

All of a sudden, Clark felt himself being grabbed. He didn’t have time to pull away before Hernan yelled at him. “They took him from me! And now you dare ask me to bow down to them? Go to hell, Kal!”

Clark threw Hernan’s hands off of him, and his fist connected at his jaw. Hernan stumbled back from the sudden blow. His blue eyes blinked in surprised before narrowing. He came back at Clark just as fast, if not harder.

Clark barely had time to doge. He parried the blow aimed at his face with his arm. He groaned. Clark’s bones couldn’t break without kryptonite, but Rao be damned if Hernan’s punch didn’t bruise.

“Look at you, Hernan!” Clark dodged another strike. “You’re out of control.”

“I’ve never been more certain in my life.” Hernan’s fist was thrown into Clark’s gut sending him flying backwards into a warehouse wall.

Bricks and steel beams came tumbling down on top of Clark, but Hernan didn’t fly over to help him, or even throw him again. Instead, he waited for Clark to get back on his feet. If he was anything like Hernan, that didn’t kill him. Not even close.

Before the dust could even began to settle, Clark hurtled himself into Hernan. He threw him through several abandoned warehouses. Hernan’s body didn’t lose momentum until his back skidded across a road.

Cars honked and tires screeched to a sudden halt.

Hernan didn’t have time to even acknowledge the driver before he heard Clark coming at him. His eyes reddened, and he shot Clark midair.

Clark cried through clenched teeth as he grabbed his shoulder where the burn grazed him. However, before Hernan could get away, Clark blew cold air, and froze Hernan’s body to the ground.

It was only temporary, but it was enough time for Clark to recover. As Clark expected, Hernan broke free of the ice, and was after him again. Clark dodged the laser beams aimed at him. Trees were sliced down, and sparks flew from spliced cables.

They were causing more damage to the surrounding environment than they were to each other.

Clark zipped around a building, and crashed into Hernan. Their bodies broke through the glass as they were hurled through cubicles. People screamed, and papers were sent flying.

Clark had Hernan pinned beneath him. His eyes glowed red, but Hernan dodged the beams, and delivered a punch straight to the bottom of his jaw. Clark’s head was thrown back, and Hernan took advantage of the small stun to throw Clark off of him. He landed another blow to Clark’s face, but before he could land a third one, Clark grabbed his wrist, and threw Hernan back into the opposing building across the street.

Screams could be heard from the other side and even below as people were confused by the sudden destruction around them.

Both Clark and Hernan flew towards each other. Their collision caused a seismic wave, that shattered the glass of buildings, and even threatened to turn over cars.

Clark was knocked into the ground. He grabbed the nearest thing beside him, a parked car, and threw it in Hernan’s direction when he saw him coming.

Hernan easily punched through it, and was on him again. Their bodies shot through the streets, buildings, and parking garages. Anything solid stood no chance. Clark’s body was flown through steel beams of a building being constructed.

Their bodies landed on a roof, with Hernan pinning Clark down. Hernan reeled his fist back, ready to strike him, but Clark struck him first. Still Hernan’s weight remained on top of him.

The fight seemed never ending. Clark would throw a punch, as would Hernan. Clark would parry or dodge, and so did Hernan. Their bodies were battered and bruised, and Clark could taste his blood on his tongue.

“That’s enough!”

Clark’s entire body seized. Hernan rolled off him, gritting his teeth to the sudden wash of nausea and pain.

“That’s enough,” Bruce repeated.

He moved to stand with his back to Clark, and the green kryptonite pointed at Hernan’s crumpled form. Bruce’s black cape had lead in it, which served as a barrier between the poisonous rock and Clark, so Clark wasn’t affected, but Hernan was.

“Wh-What is that?” Hernan groaned between clenched teeth.

“Kryptonite,” Bruce replied. “That’s enough, Hernan. It’s over.”

Hernan tried to say something, tried to move, but having never been exposed to kryptonite before, his body was extremely weak to it. He collapsed in an unmoving heap. He wouldn’t be getting up for quite a while.

“Bruce…” Clark called out to him.

“Are you hurt?”

“I’ll be fine,” Clark replied. He was already starting to feel better although he still felt bruised. He hoped when Hernan woke up he was just as sore after what he had put him through.

“Thank you,” Clark finally said.

Bruce didn’t reply.

The sound of copters whirled above them, and men in tactical gear hung from rope ladders. When they were close enough, they landed on the roof with their guns pointed at Hernan’s fallen form.

“We’ll take it from here,” one soldier told them. “We should take this as well.”

He went to reach for the kryptonite in Bruce’s hold, but Bruce held onto it tight.

“Where ever this goes, I go.”

The man nodded. “Fine, she wants to see you two anyway.”

“She?” Clark began to stand up slowly. He wiped the debris and ash from his body as best he could, but remained behind Bruce all the while.

“Hello again.” Waller climbed out of a helicopter that landed right on the other side of the roof. The copters slowed, but her ears where still covered. Her eyes followed Hernan’s fallen form.

Clark watched as the men handcuffed Hernan’s hands together. His knuckles were bruised and bleeding, and a cut ran along his cheek. The soldiers pointed long glowing rods towards him that emitted red solar radiation.

As long as they kept him locked in a cell lined with it, Hernan wouldn’t be harming anyone any time soon.

It was done.

“Good work,” Waller complimented them. “Now he’ll get the help he needs to be a real hero.”

“The hero you want,” Bruce interjected.

His tone was harsh, but his features remained impartial. Even so, Waller’s stance grew stiff.

“Well, we should return you both to your world. I’m sure they’re missing you. Please, follow me.” Waller walked back to her helicopter, and Clark followed her. Bruce concealed the kryptonite in his utility belt where he always kept it. He gave one final look at Hernan who was being taken to a separate helicopter than their own.

He followed Clark.

Once all three of them were on board, the helicopter took off. Bruce kept his eyes on the helicopter holding Hernan.

“Where is he going?” Bruce asked.

“We have prepared a cell with red radiation to keep him in. He’ll be fine.”

“He’s not going in the same direction as us.”

“No, his cell is in the opposite direction—”

“Excuse me, Madame President.” Bruce opened the side door of the helicopter, “But for the sake of thoroughly carrying out this mission, I cannot let him out of sight.”

Bruce reached for his grappling hook, and shot it through the air. The hook wrapped around the leg of the helicopter holding Hernan, and Bruce jumped.

“Bruce!” Clark called after him, but it was too late. Bruce was already being propelled through the air. He grasped the leg of the helicopter, and began to pull himself up when the side door swung open.

Bruce thought they were going to offer a helping hand, but volts of electricity was sent through him. He let go.

“Bruce!”

Clark leapt from the helicopter and caught Bruce mid-air.

“We need to get to Hernan,” Bruce said as if nothing had happened to him. “Toss me.”

Clark nodded. He aimed at the helicopter, and threw him. Bruce hurled through the air, and grabbed the top of the door frame. He swung into the cabin knocking the one who tazed him out the other side.

Shots were fired within the cabin. Bruce dodged them, ducking low to strike the first one in the knee and sending him crashing to the floor. He swiftly moved out of the way from the second who tried to strike him from behind, by throwing the man he had taken to the floor right at him.

The cabin space was small, giving little room for Bruce to move, but that didn’t seem to matter. If he kept dodging, the men would hit each other. Another shot was fired, and the helicopter jolted to the side before spinning out of control.

He needed to get off.

He found Hernan tied up in the back and grabbed him by the front of his jacket. With a firm grip on him, Bruce jumped.

The helicopter crashed into the side of a hill. It went up in fire and smoke. It was hard to see anything, but that was for the best.

Clark held both Bruce and Hernan and flew out of sight.


	5. Chapter 5

Bruce ducked low in the underbrush. The sound of copters overhead roared loudly for several moments before moving on.

Bruce, with his hand, indicated it was safe to move on. Clark followed closely behind him as he shouldered Hernan’s dead weight. Hernan weighed nothing compared to his super strength, but he was still a chip on his shoulder – a rather large one.

Bruce suddenly stilled, and Clark nearly ran into him.

_‘Quiet.’_ Bruce indicated with a raised fist. Clark listened, and he heard it. There was a rustling in the bushes. An animal? A soldier?

Hernan groaned.

Clark moved to swiftly cover Hernan’s mouth with his hand, but as soon as he clamped his fingers over his mouth, Hernan was quick to react.

“Ah!” Clark dropped Hernan from his shoulder and cradled his hand. “Y-You bit m—”

Clark felt his legs knocked out from under him. He was on the ground, and Hernan was on top of him with red eyes.

“It’s a rabbit,” Bruce said. 

“What?” Hernan looked over at the bunny that hopped from the bushes. He blinked once, then twice before Clark threw him off.

“Where are we?”

“We’re outside of Gotham. After your fight with Clark, Waller and her men come to take you. We took you back,” Bruce explained.

“_He_ took you back.” Clark corrected. He still didn’t understand why Bruce had decided he needed to jump out of the helicopter, nor save Hernan, but he did.

Hernan scoffed and glared at Clark. “And yet _you’re_ my warden.”

“Yeah, I am.” Clark rose to his feet, and towered over Hernan. Hernan looked unamused.

“That’s enough,” Bruce interjected. “We need to find shelter. Once we do, you two can argue all you want.”

“Can’t wait.” Hernan got to his feet as well. “Can you at least remove the handcuffs?”

“No,” Clark and Bruce answered in unison. Hernan looked a little surprised, but didn’t protest. It was as if he was too amused he forgot his complaint.

Clark ushered Hernan to walk in front of him while Bruce led the way. Surprisingly, Hernan didn’t attempt to run away. He stayed close to Bruce with his hands cuffed behind his back. No source of kryptonite or red radiation. It was a normal pair of metal handcuffs. He could break free anytime he wanted, but he didn’t.

Clark didn’t trust him.

Bruce found an uninhabited cave for them to take shelter in. Clark placed a hand on Hernan’s shoulder, and forced him down on his knees.

“Sit.”

“I’ll make myself comfortable,” Hernan quipped. He sat down with his back against the cave wall. His hands were still handcuffed behind him. Clark had checked with a quick scan of x-ray vision.

“I’m getting things for a fire.” Bruce walked off. “Don’t start one while I’m gone.”

Clark looked back at Hernan, but Hernan didn’t seem to be rearing for a fight. He merely sat with his head resting against the cave wall, and his eyes shut peacefully.

So that was it? All that fuss, and Hernan was just going to sit there? Clark felt his balled hands shaking at his sides.

_‘Breathe, Clark.’_ He reminded himself, and breathed deeply through his nose.

“So that’s your Batman?” Hernan finally spoke up. His eyes opened, blue as Clark’s own, but the two of them were not the same. Clark refused to believe so.

“Yes, that’s my Batman.”

“I like him.” Hernan mused. “He’s interesting.”

“As in?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?” Clark looked unconvinced.

“Why do we need a fire?” Hernan cut through Clark’s pessimism.

“Batman.”

“He’s human?”

“He’s not like us.” Clark chose his words carefully. Bruce wouldn’t like it if Clark told Hernan he was human.

“Why is a human called Batman? Or better yet, why is a man dressing up as a bat?”

“Your batman dresses up as a bat too!” Clark defended.

“Yes, but he’s a vampire due to experimenting with vampire bats. It makes sense.”

“Why the curiosity?” Hernan nearly reeled back by the sudden voice beside him. Both Supermen were too busy arguing to have noticed Bruce’s return.

Hernan swallowed, but was quick to recover. “Need me to light that?”

“I’ve got it.” Clark stepped in, and easily lit the dried leaves and scavenged wood on fire with his heat vision.

Bruce was unmoved. He stood near the fire feeling its warmth but didn’t say anything.

No one did.

It was unnerving.

Patience wasn’t one of Hernan’s many virtues. He couldn’t stand sitting with a Batman who didn’t say much nor a super-powered being who just glared at him from over the flames. Give him a break.

“So what now?” Hernan broke the silence. “Do we hold each other’s hands around the fire and sing Kumbaya?”

“Your hands are handcuffed,” Clark replied accusingly.

Hernan raised his hands with his palms open and the handcuffs dangling around one wrist. “You didn’t expect me to wear them all night, did you?”

“No of course not. A person who likes to break things, why would we assume that?”

Hernan’s fingers gave a slight twitch as if he thought about punching Clark right then and there, but he refrained from doing so. Instead his signature smirk, one Clark disdained, graced his features.

“I’m glad you understand me so well.” Hernan lowered his hands to rest upon his knees.

Clark would have preferred if Hernan punched him. It would have given him the excuse to punch him back. Instead he was left sitting there annoyed to no end.

“Your Batman,” Bruce cut through the rising tensions, “When he died, what did you do?”

In a matter of a second, the smugness was gone. Hernan looked at Bruce with tired eyes. He was tired of having to say what happened. He was tired of having to think about what he did that day, and yet he never did stop thinking about it.

Hernan’s hands curled into a fist. “I did what he asked me to.”

“You held the bridge,” Bruce said.

“I did.”

“Then what?”

“I went to STAR Labs. I… I found his body.” Hernan breathed in deeply. “It was charred beyond recognition, but I knew it was him.”

“Did you scan it?”

“I did. I lifted him from the rubble but he was so…” Hernan couldn’t bring himself to describe Kirk’s body. He averted his gaze to the flickering flames as a distraction, but the image of Kirk still lingered heavily in his mind.

His entire body was burnt, and the blood charred to the flesh and bones. When he lifted him, it wasn’t all in one piece. Parts of him were missing. Hernan had fallen to his knees when he realized the missing limbs, and he had cried when he noticed how twisted the remaining appendages were. He was so…

“He was so broken,” Hernan said in a way that made Clark think, it wasn’t just Kirk he was talking about. There was something broken in Hernan too.

“Did you bury him?”

“I buried him next to my mother. His family didn’t want him in their family plot, and so my father insisted we bury him as a Guerra,” Hernan explained.

The sun was blocked out by dark clouds threatening to rain that day. The ceremony was planned to be small. Hernan didn’t publicize it, nor notify anyone else. Kirk was a private man. The two people he loved most in the world were no longer around. He had no one else besides Hernan. Bekka was somewhere else so Hernan couldn’t reach her, but he knew she would have come had she known.

Even so, as he stood by the casket being lowered into the ground, Hernan was surprised by the amount of people that had shown up. It wasn’t just his family, or friends of family, but it was also people Hernan had never met. They held lit candles and protected the flame even when it began to rain.

It was extraordinary. Hernan had wished Kirk were there to see the sea of lights.

“And when did you confront the President?” Bruce asked after a moment of silence.

“About a week later.” Hernan’s eyes hardened. “I had time to think over that day and it seemed all too convenient to be an accident. I went to talk to President Lane to ask him what had happened. He said it was a system override. There was a malfunction that would cause the system to explode. A signal was sent to stop it, but with so many mixed signals, the system exploded anyway.

“I asked him who ordered the override, and he confessed he did, even though it was him who ordered us to report to the scene.”

“You think the President is responsible for Kirk’s death?” Bruce stated more than asked.

“I know he is. This wouldn’t be the first time the government has targeted us. Mostly they have tried to get rid of me, but this time… they got rid of him.”

“Did you attack the President?”

“He attacked me first.” Hernan claimed. “I fought back.”

“Did you kill him?”

“No. After the initial attack, I lost sight of him. He had soldiers ready for me, and I took them down.”

“And so your crusade began.”

“You could say that.” A small smile returned to Hernan’s features, but there was no heart in it.

“I see.” Bruce stood up. “I’ll get more wood.”

Bruce departed from the cave, but Clark knew it wasn’t just for collecting firewood. He was digesting all the things Hernan had told him. Clark was too.

He wasn’t sure if he wanted to believe him. It all seemed so bizarre, but this was a different world than his own, Clark had to remember. This was a world that seemed to not like their heroes. They were scared of their power and their potential violence. Clark couldn’t blame them, but at the same time, if what Hernan had said was true, then Clark didn’t blame him either.

Violence stemmed from fear was never good, nor was violence against violence. It had to end. Both Hernan and the President had to pay for their crimes.

But what did Bruce think? He had to be thinking the same, right?

“Aren’t you going to follow him?” Hernan spoke up.

“That depends, are you going to run away?”

“And miss this nice fire?”

Clark scoffed, but he made to stand up nonetheless. If Hernan tried to run, Clark would fly after him. Hernan knew that, and so he didn’t move.

Clark listened for Bruce’s heartbeat. He heard it a good distance away, and so Clark flew to him. He found Bruce sitting on a large boulder. Clark supposed it was the next best thing to a gargoyle.

“How’s Hernan?” Bruce asked him without turning around. He didn’t need to, to know Clark was there.

“He’s warming up by the fire.”

“You don’t like him.” Bruce stated rather than asked. A mirthful smirk tugged upon those lips, and Clark was flabbergasted.

“Do you?”

“I think he’s interesting.”

_‘Interesting?!’_ Clark was at a complete loss for words.

Bruce looked amused, even behind the cowl. Clark didn’t know what to do with either of them. Scratch that, he was definitely still going to punch Hernan. He was just at a loss for Bruce.

Bruce shifted on his boulder stiffly. He didn’t grimace or make a pained sound, but Clark knew something wasn’t right.

“Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine.”

“Let me see.” Clark insisted, but Bruce didn’t move. “C’mon, I know you let Alfred bandage you up.”

“Are you equating yourself with Alfred?” Bruce’s mirth returned. “It would appear some of Hernan’s ego has rubbed off on you.”

“I am nowhere near perfecting Alfred’s cookie recipe,” Clark replied, “But I do know some basic first-aid.”

Bruce didn’t argue with that surprisingly. He slowly reached into his utility belt for a small surgical kit. He handed it to Clark before going to fold back the top half of his uniform. Clark refrained from grimacing from the small gash that crossed Bruce’s side. A bullet from earlier must have grazed him. Clark was surprised, but at the same time, it was a miracle that Bruce had only been grazed and not made into swiss cheese.

Clark ripped open the alcohol pads and cleaned the wound as well as the needle. He threaded the needle, and carefully stitched the wound. Clark had been queasy the first time he did it, but after the amount of times he has had to either patch himself up when he had no powers, or patch up a team member, he had gotten a hand of it.

Bruce remained still. When he was done, Bruce looked down at his stitching. He gave a small grunt as if it was passible, but nothing more. Clark bandaged up Bruce’s torso, and Bruce pulled down the top of his uniform.

“I know what we have to do.”

“You thought of a plan through all that?”

Bruce ignored Clark’s question. “Whether you believe him or not, there is only one way we can find out.”

“We have to find the President.”

“Precisely.” Bruce gracefully hopped off the boulder. “We should be getting back to Hernan.”

“Bruce…”

Bruce paused. He waited for Clark to continue but Clark didn’t know how.

“It’s nothing.” Clark decided. “Let’s just get this done.”

Clark walked past Bruce and Bruce didn’t stop him. They found Hernan right where they left him by the fire.

Bruce placed down a few big branches over the fire to keep it going before saying, “We should move to find the President. The only way for this conflict to resolve itself is to find the truth.”

“You don’t believe me?” Hernan asked.

“It’s not about convincing us, Hernan. It’s about what your people believe.” Bruce corrected. “I will look at the place where they were going to hold you, Hernan. Both of you should stay away. If they were planning to contain you, they would have things to harm Kryptonians.”

“Should you need help?” Clark questioned.

“I’ll contact you,” Bruce replied. “In the meantime, I want you and Hernan to search the D.C. area, specifically try to back track from the last time Hernan saw the President.”

_‘Babysitting essentially.’_ Clark seemed just as excited as Hernan did which was not at all.

“Do you really think that’s a good idea?” Hernan asked more amused than Clark liked. “We could kill each other.”

“He has a point,” Clark agreed for once.

“My side of the mission relies on you two laying low. If you blow your cover, you blow mine.”

Clark and Hernan nodded in agreement, jokes aside.

“Very well.” Hernan agreed. “When do we begin?”

“No better time than the present,” Bruce replied.

Both Supermen looked surprised, but they didn’t argue. Hernan directed both Clark and Bruce where they would most likely take him, Cadmus. Clark had carried Bruce there since it was faster, and Bruce made no fuss about it like he usually did. He didn’t have his batplane to help him, but only his cape to glide, and a grapple hook.

“Careful,” Hernan warned Bruce. “The place is heavily fortified, but if there is any place equipped to hold me, it would be here.”

“Understood.” Bruce nodded. He grappled away leaving the two Supermen to their own devices. Hopefully they really wouldn’t kill each other. Bruce doubted they would. Clark wouldn’t risk endangering him, and Hernan was riddled with guilt. He wouldn’t risk losing another Batman either even if it was one from another universe.

Bruce quickly scanned the building best he could without risking detection. He cracked through several backwalls. Hernan wasn’t kidding. The place had measures for even Bruce’s scanners, but he was able to find a way in nonetheless.

He found a drainpipe deep in the woods, and crawled through to what should be the very bottom of the facility. However, Bruce wouldn’t be surprised if there was more to it. He found an opening leading up into a boiler room.

The room was steaming hot, but empty. The ceiling was lined with multiple vents leading in all directions. Bruce choose one and crawled through. He moved soundlessly and listened for any motion in the halls. There was none.

Bruce didn’t hear anyone until he found the elevator shaft. The elevator was going up, and he caught a ride.

“She’s not happy.”

“When is she ever happy?”

Bruce heard two men talking inside the compartment.

“Apparently the Batman from the other universe let him escape.”

“Why? Wasn’t it clear enough that Superman needed to be put away?”

“That was Waller’s job, not ours.”

“Leave it to her to stick the blame on us.”

They both scoffed. The elevator stopped, and the two got off. Bruce looked up to find a connecting vent and followed them.

“Move it people! We need to get these units out of here today!”

Bruce heard someone yell. There was a flurry of movement below him. He could see large crates being moved across the floor room, and crates being closed. At this angle he couldn’t see what was inside them.

They were loaded into the back of trucks. Someone moved to close the truck, and bang on the door. It pulled away and another truck took its place. Whatever was in those crates, there was a lot of them, and they were big.

Bruce pressed on.

“Why aren’t these out of here yet?! They should have been loaded and gone by this morning!”

“Sir, we—”

“Who are you? I don’t know you. Where’s Waller? We need to talk.”

“But, Sir—”

“Stand down.” Bruce recognized Waller’s voice. He inched closer until he could see her clearly approaching the man who had been shouting earlier. He was dressed in a formal military uniform, with several medals pinned to his chest.

“Lane, shouldn’t you be preparing for tomorrow?”

“I should, had you not screwed up! Superman was supposed to be in his chamber, but last time I checked, it’s empty.”

“There was… an unexpected complication. We’re searching for him now.”

“If you needed another Superman to find him, what makes you think you can?”

Waller was unmoved. “I don’t think we will find him, but you can lure him out. Tomorrow when you make your speech, he will surely resurface. It would be the perfect opportunity to show off your latest achievement, Sir.”

Lane paused before huffing. “You better be right Waller. It’s not just my neck on the line, but yours too.”

Lane had stormed out. Waller didn’t move to follow him. She turned to a man beside her and gave him instructions.

“Have these shipments all out in less than half an hour. If there is one unit remaining a second past deadline, none of you bother coming back.”

She turned and headed the opposite direction Lane went in. Bruce was caught at a crossroads. Who was more dangerous? Waller or Lane?

Bruce followed Waller.

He moved through the vents to follow her down the hall, and a hitched a ride on the elevator that went several floors down. They were past the basement level. They were deep underground judging by the travel time.

When the elevator stopped, Bruce found the vent for that floor, and followed Waller through the hall. The hallway lead to a large research area. Bruce slipped through the grate of the vent and stayed close to the shadows.

Large monitors lined the opposing wall, with a mess of data. Bruce tried to quickly make out most of it.

_‘Kirk Langstrom…’_ Bruce read. There were copies of DNA structures, blueprints of cells, 3D graphic models of fangs, and a myriad of other things. Nonetheless, they all connected to the late Batman. Why?

“Bruce Wayne,” Waller called out to him. Her back was turned, but it was clear she knew he was there. “I wasn’t planning on you coming to this universe. You were usually so protective over your city, I didn’t think you’d leave it for this.”

“It would seem this world needed me more.” Bruce stayed in the shadows. He assessed his surroundings for the fastest getaway route should he need one, but then something caught his eye.

There was a sound of a heartbeat, slow but steady. It flashed upon a monitor connected to a cylindrical glass case.

It couldn’t be.

“It’s funny, really. We’re not so different, you and I.” Waller finally turned around with an oxygen mask at hand. “We always like to be one step ahead.”

Bruce couldn’t smell it. He couldn’t even see it, but by the time he realized there was something in the air, he felt his body seize up.

He fell from his perch up high and hit the ground hard. His body shook uncontrollably, as it fought the odorless toxin.

“Waller, what’s going on?” he could hear Lane yelling over the intercom.

Waller chuckled. “Nothing, Lane. Just taking care of a rodent infestation.”

Bruce looked up at the glass cylinder he fell before. Before his vision blurred, he saw the paleness of a face before he saw nothing.

Everything went black.


	6. Chapter 6

Cadmus was not too far away from Washington. Clark looked ahead for possible danger. The coast seemed clear for now.

Strange.

Clark thought, if the stories were true, Washington D.C. would be the most heavily fortified city or at least ready to defend against Hernan. However, when Clark looked to where the White House would have stood…

“Did you burn down the White House?”

“A place built on the backs of slaves for rich white men to live in? Yes, I burnt it.” Hernan looked at Clark as if the reason should be obvious. “Oh, don’t give me that look. The Canadians burnt it way before I did.”

“That’s… That’s not the same.”

“No? Why do you think Canadians would burn the White House during a time of war? They saw it as the castle, for Presidents should fashion themselves as kings.”

“There’s more to the U.S. government than the president. There are checks and balances – the president is not a king. Any grade-schooler would know this.”

“Did you go to public school, Kal?”

“Yes, I grew up in Kansas. Education is a right in the States.”

“I grew up in the States, and for most of my life, I believed I was born there too – but I wasn’t given such a privilege,” Hernan said. “You’re right, Kal. It wasn’t just the President, but it’s people too. I wasn’t allowed to go to public school because of who my family was. My parents were too afraid the school or other parents would call someone if my sister or I attended.”

Clark wasn’t sure what to say. He didn’t know Hernan’s life. He didn’t know what hardship he might have had compared to his own. He didn’t know the full root of his anger. Facing discrimination is not easy. Clark couldn’t say how hard it is, but he knew it was.

“Don’t feel sorry for me, Kal. My sister got her GED. once my family was naturalized, and I learned through traveling the world for years before I even put on the suit.”

“Why did you put on the suit?”

“I was tired of seeing how people treated each other.”

Clark didn’t need Hernan to clarify which people he meant nor how. Their worlds may be a little different, but Clark knew there was mistreatment of certain kinds of people by others. He wasn’t so naïve to not see how the rules are made, nor who makes them. Clark just believed the best way to combat it was through banning together.

Trying to change something through violence only creates more violence. It strengthens existing resentments by validating majority’s fears of the minority. Social problems were not something Superman could punch his way through. It wasn’t a job for Superman, but it could be a job for Hernan Guerra just as it was a job for Clark Kent. There was another way.

“I understand.” Clark replied. Hernan stilled for a moment. “I don’t agree but I understand.”

That annoying smirk graced Hernan’s features, but he didn’t comment further. Although Clark expected some sarcastic quip, it never came.

Instead, Hernan landed softly on his feet, and began to sort through the rubble. Clark helped him. They lifted up large chunks of stone and cement, hoping to not make a lot of noise. If there was one thing they seemed to agree upon, it was guaranteeing Bruce’s safety.

“So your Batman,” Hernan spoke up.

“What about him?”

“You like leather.”

Clark nearly dropped the large piece of marble he held. “We’re not like that.”

“You’re not?”

“No, we’re not.”

Hernan tutted. “No wonder you’re mad all the time.”

“I’m not – I’m not talking about this with you right now.”

“But you like him?”

“Can we please get back to—”

“Kal, we’re brothers. You can talk to me.”

“No! Do not pull that with me.”

“Kal. Kal, we were having a break through moment.”

“No.”

“Kal.”

“Hernan!” Clark paused when the last piece of rubble he lifted revealed a latch. “I found something.”

“Your dignity?”

Clark felt the marble in his hands crack, but it didn’t crumble. He set it down with thinly pressed lips. The harder he pressed them together, the less likely he would dignify that comment with an answer.

“There’s a metal door under here. Looks like it could lead to an underground bunker.”

“Oh.” Hernan clapped Clark’s shoulder. “Nice find.”

“Thanks,” Clark said between clenched teeth. “After you.”

Clark peered through the metal as he suspected Hernan did too. It wasn’t made of lead, so he could see past the door to see a ladder leading down. Wary of it still, he allowed Hernan to open the latch.

“Wait up here,” Hernan said. Before Clark could so much as protest or even question why, Hernan had shot down through the passage to lord knows where. As much as Clark should follow him, he didn’t right away. Some part of him waited for some cry or scream, but none came.

Shame.

He flew down after Hernan. The passage was not long before he found himself zipping down a hall, and then down another passage going further down into the earth. Clark went so fast, he nearly ran into Hernan when he saw the solid black figure.

Hernan was motionless.

_‘Hernan?’_ Clark didn’t call out to him in fear that they weren’t alone, but he listened and the only beating hearts he could hear were his and Hernan’s. No one else was there.

“Hernan?” Clark called to him, but Hernan didn’t answer.

Clark approached him slowly, but rather looking at Hernan, he looked past him. There was a faint blue light that glowed a few feet away. When Clark stood beside Hernan, he could see it clearly.

Before them was a glass cylindrical case. Various wires and cords connected to the top, but there was no heart beating in the lone figure. It wasn’t alive, but it’s face was one which they knew well.

Hernan breathed in deeply. “It’s me.”

If Clark weren’t so surprised, he might have noted how Hernan should shave since it would take years off his face, but he held his tongue. There was something happening above them.

“Hernan,” Clark could hear the rumble of several vehicles, and the chatter of people. “We have to get out of here before we’re trapped.”

Hernan didn’t move. He was transfixed by the face that was his – a body like his own, and yet that’s all it was – a body. It was not alive.

“Hernan.” Clark gave one last warning, but it fell upon deaf ears. “Alright, you give me no choice.”

Clark grabbed Hernan by his arm, and zipped back the way they came from. He moved faster than the human eye could perceive. The only evidence they were there was a gust of wind.

There was a chorus of confusion as people held fast to the sudden gust from nowhere, but they soon returned to what they were doing. Clark dropped off on a roof and set Hernan unceremoniously down beside him.

Hernan blinked, then scowled once he realized what Clark had done. “Why did you pull us out? There could have been more down there!”

Hernan rose to his feet, his height rivaling Clark’s, but Clark stood his ground.

“Had we not moved when we did, we would have been trapped down there for god knows how long. You see those people?” Clark pointed in the direction they came from. “They’re setting up for something big. They’re not leaving any time soon.”

“So what? We could have figured out what the hell was going on down there, but instead of answers we have more questions than before.”

“So what? Remember what Batman said? If we blow our cover, his is blown too. I couldn’t risk that. You of all people should understand that.”

Hernan lips thinned, but he didn’t fight back. Whether Clark was right that their cover would have been blown had they stayed down there, they would never know. But the risk wasn’t worth it to Clark, and Hernan understood.

“Fine,” Hernan conceded. “What now?”

“They’re setting up for something big. It may be best to stick around and see what exactly they’re setting up for.”

Hernan nodded and looked up towards the sky. “Dawn is breaking with blue skies. We should take cover from satellites.”

Clark nodded in agreement, and followed Hernan’s lead.

It had been a while since Bruce had contacted him, Clark noted. He hoped everything was alright.

* * *

“Can you hear me, Mr. Wayne?”

Bruce felt a pounding in his head synced to the pounding in his chest as if blood were rushing back into his head as quickly as possible. His vision was spotted black and his mouth felt too dry to speak.

Weakly his fingers twitched. They held little dexterity as the poison still worked through his body numbing him. The poison must work for a long time, Bruce assumed, since Waller was confident enough to leave him untied and lying on the floor where he fell.

The poison had been odorless, colorless, and long-lasting – something Bruce wasn’t familiar with. Whatever she poisoned him with, it took longer for his body to recover from than his mind. He could still think. He could still find a way out of this.

Still his eyes struggled to peer past the blinding black spots. Among the moving black, he thought he could make out shrewd, dark eyes looking at him. The curling smirk which followed confirmed his suspicion.

“Are you awake now?”

Bruce moved to speak, but it seemed even the muscles in his face were slow to recover. He could barely open his mouth, but at least he could still feel a scowl furrowing his brows. This seemed to suffice Waller.

“I have to say, I’m a little disappointed in you, Bruce. You see, I’ve been studying you and your team for quite some time. The Justice League, did your Waller come up with that name too?” Waller scoffed. “But you, so much unlike the Batman I know. Human, vengeful, and recluse, I thought you wouldn’t come. I was hoping your Wonder Woman would have come instead, and yet here you are.”

She took hold of his limp gauntlet hand and guided it towards his utility belt. “While you’re here, I might as well make the most of it.”

The pouch opened to the sensors of his gauntlet rather than electrocuting them both. She withdrew the lead box which Bruce held with him at all times. Clark had given it to him to keep safe should Clark ever turn on him, and Bruce had taken measures so it wouldn’t fall into the wrong hands. It would seem he miscalculated.

When Waller couldn’t open the box, she used Bruce’s gauntlet hand once more, and the box opened to reveal the glowing kryptonite.

“Thank you, Bruce. I’ll be taking this.”

She rose from Bruce’s side and headed towards a large table in the center of the room. She placed the piece of kryptonite under what appeared to be a scanner, and smiled a moment later.

“Once I found out about Kryptonite, I wondered if we had some too on our earth. I scoured the world for various green rocks, and it seems some of them I was correct about.” She got to work, typing out commands Bruce couldn’t see, but as long as she was distracted, now would be the time to devise a plan.

Bruce looked around as much as his neck would allow. The glass case was behind him hooked to various wires and cords that dangled off the sides of it. If he could pull them, would they unplug or break? Would it kill the person inside, or wake them up?

Bruce didn’t know, but it was a risk he’d have to take. He had to try.

His arm hung lopsidedly behind him while his head rested on the other. He couldn’t move either of them, but he could feel a tingling in his fingertips as he tried to blindly twitch them. Little by little, the tingling eased and his fingers felt more like dead weight than a foggy buzz. Bruce wasn’t sure which state he preferred.

“Waller, are you there? Come in.”

“Yes, Mr. Lane. Everything should be ready, and in place for your speech. When the fight ensues, I have a special shipment that should do the job.”

Lane sounded dubious as he said, “There have been no signs of either Supermen yet.”

“They’ll show.” Waller promised. “I’m most certain of it.”

Bruce needed to move. Clark was in danger now that Waller had kryptonite. She didn’t just steal his, but she had much more apparently stored away.

“You better be right, Waller.”

“I usually am.” Waller cut the feed, and moved to another part of the room where a keypad rested against the wall. Waller scanned her hand before punching in a code. A drawer built into the wall unlocked, and Waller reached in to grab a much larger piece of Kryptonite than what Bruce had. With such an amount, she could kill Clark.

The sound of laser cutting through rock drowned out the room. This was Bruce’s chance. He focused on the muscles of his arm, trying to will through the motions even if he could not feel the movement.

He felt the tips of his fingers strike something solid, but his hand slipped, and wavered back to his side. He tried again each time, feeling his fingers catching but never being able to fully grasp and pull. However, every time his hand went up, he could feel himself reaching more.

The laser stopped, and Bruce lied motionless.

“Hello! Thank you! Thank you.” Bruce heard from the other side of the room. The monitor had flickered to a scene he couldn’t see. He could only hear the muffled clapping of a crowd as the lights of the room lightened from the glow of the screen.

“I know these past few weeks have been tough on us, but we remain resilient and stronger than ever before.” The statement was met with a loud cheer, but Bruce kept his focus on Waller.

Suddenly a door slid open, and an armed man walked in. “Yes, Madam President?”

“See to it that this new piece is added to the last shipment.” She handed over the piece of kryptonite she was cutting earlier.

“Yes, right away, Madam President.” He exited the room.

“I stand before you today, because when I ran for president, I promised you a future where we would no longer be ruled by the whims of self-declared heroes.”

Waller looked over at Bruce, as if remembering dealing with him was next on her checklist.

“I stand before you today because I promised you we would no longer have to live in fear of powers beyond our control.”

She began to make her way to him. Now was the time to move.

“I stand before you today to tell you that that promised day has come. That day is today.”

Bruce reached up. His fingers hooked around the wires and pulled.

* * *

* * *

* * *

Hernan and Clark had found a vacant room to hole up in. In uniform, they couldn’t blend into a civilian crowd and so this was the best they could do. They were too far to see the set up, but both kept their ears out as they listened to small conversations.

Hernan blew through most of it, finding small talk trivial. Clark, however, didn’t.

“Have you notified the press?”

“Yes, I notified all top stations. They should be arriving any moment now.”

“Move those chairs! They need to line – in a row – right here. 20, each side.”

“I’m not paid nearly enough for this.”

“Whoa! Whoa! What are these?”

“Shipment for the presentation.”

“Presentation? On who’s authority?”

“Classified, lady.” There was a disgruntled huff, but the man pressed on. “Move it, gentlemen! They need to be aligned on stage behind the curtain.”

“That’s right. Today, people. Let’s move it!”

“—You better be right, Waller.”

“That’s him!” Hernan moved, ready to jump out the window had Clark not held him back.

“Wait,” Clark said. “They want us to show up.”

“Then let’s show them up.”

“Not yet.” Clark pulled Hernan back from the window’s edge. He had yet to hear from Bruce, and the long silence made him anxious. If Bruce’s cover was blown, would he know? Clark shook his head. He couldn’t risk it.

He leveled a warning look at Hernan’s direction, reminding him that they had to lay low, but Hernan only huffed. His nostrils flared in pent up anger, and the edge of his eyes looked red. Clark wouldn’t be surprised if he was seeing red too.

“Fine!” Hernan turned away from the window. He paced around the empty room with his fists balled up, and his jaw clenched. Every part of him was tense, and Clark couldn’t do anything about it. Hernan looked like a rocket ready to lunch, and Clark wasn’t sure if he could hold him back when he did.

Several minutes passed before there was a cheering crowd. It didn’t sound very big, but sometimes sound was deceptive that way. Clark and Hernan could hear various news channels flicker to life as people stayed indoors to watch and listen. Others opened their windows and peered down at the large stage before Lincoln Memorial.

“Hello! Thank you! Thank you.” They could hear President Lane through a microphone. “Thank you for gathering today on such short notice. I know these past few weeks have been tough on us, but we remain resilient and stronger than ever before.”

There was a resounding cheer, and Clark saw Hernan reach for the window sill. His fingers curled around the edge trembling.

“I stand before you today, because when I ran for president, I promised you a future where we would no longer be ruled by the whims of self-declared heroes. I stand before you today because I promised you we would no longer have to live in fear of powers beyond our control. I stand before you today to tell you that that promised day has come. That day is today

“You see, my administration has been working closely with top scientists around the world to revitalize Project Fair Play. What happened nearly a year ago was a misguided objective. We didn’t need to build weapons to take down Superman. What we needed were heroes – real heroes – who could do good for this world. We need heroes who could uphold the values of justice this country holds.

“Not some self-declared hero who acts on a whim, and basks in the limelight for things they ought to do. Not someone who decides some underserved citizen, who may have been going through a rough time in their lives, who needed help – not fangs tearing through his neck. We need someone we can trust, someone we can rely on, and most importantly, someone who makes us feel safe.

“People of this great nation, my fellow citizens, I bring you today the heroes we deserve.”

There was a pregnant pause before Clark could hear a collective of hushed gasps and whispers.

“What are those?”

“Are they real people?”

“They can’t be.”

President Lane cut through the murmurs. “I introduce to you the heroes of today. They are faster than Superman, stronger, and more reliable. They act under the principles of justice this country holds – not their own, and they live to serve you, the people. They live to protect our rights, freedoms, and liberties. They live to protect you so that you may sleep peacefully at night, knowing all will be alright.

“I promise you, America, a more peaceful future is ahead of us.”

“Peace or conformity?”

Clark quickly looked beside him where Hernan was last standing, but he was gone. _‘Fucking—’_

“Superman,” President Lane held steadfast to his podium, “It is good of you to show.”

Hernan glided down to the reflecting pool. His foot landed upon the surface of the water, causing a ripple effect but nothing more. If Hernan wanted people to see him as a god, then he was succeeding, Clark thought.

* * *

* * *

There was a series of clicks from either side of him. It was the sound of safety locks being switched off as guns were aimed at Hernan, but there was no sense of fear behind Hernan’s dark eyes. And though the skies were blue that day, Clark could feel electricity tingle the hairs on the back of his neck to rise. A storm was coming.

There was a heaviness in the air that made it hard to breathe, yet Hernan stepped forth across the water. Each step was powerful in its purpose but still the surface of the water never broke. 

“Are these your heroes?” Hernan asked evenly.

He looked up at the figures on the stage behind the president. Their uniforms were black and heavily padded in bullet proof armor, and over their heads was a helmet that hid their faces from view. Everything they wore, must have had a thin layer of lead for neither Hernan nor Clark could see beneath the armor.

“Yes,” President Lane said, “They are this country’s new heroes, here to serve—”

“—And obey _you_.” Hernan interjected.

Lane’s grip around the podium tightened, but his artificial smile never wavered. “They are obeying laws. Laws no one, not you nor I, are above.”

“Who enforces the laws? Who writes them? Who controls—”

“It’s not about control.”

“But isn’t it?” Hernan scoffed. “I am so tired of you people – your constant need for control. If you cannot control it, then you must fear it, right? And fear is something that is taught – something you teach so well.

“How else do you move someone? People are in constant motion for fear of car payments, mortgages, bottomless debts they couldn’t hope to pay off in their lifetimes – all of this building up until the notion of fear is normal. When fear is normal, it’s easier to accept when you to tell them to fear what could hide in the dark. Fear your neighbor, fear the black man who crosses the street at night, and fear the Mexican immigrant who only wishes for a better life.”

Hernan stepped from the edge of the pool, and the people moved back. Wordlessly, they broke apart, making a clear path for Hernan to step towards the stage where President Lane stood white-knuckling the podium.

Lane swallowed. “I’m afraid it’s time for you to go, Superman.”

Hernan scoffed, and his steps were undeterred as he moved forward. “Afraid? You know nothing of fear other than how to wield it. These,” Hernan looked away from Lane to gaze at the black silhouetted soldiers. “These after all, are not an instrument of peace. They are an instrument of fear and thus control.”

When Hernan reached the stage, he rose above the ground. “You do not scare me.” Hernan no longer looked up at President Lane, but at eye level. “You do not control me, and you never will.”

“Is that so?” President Lane’s grin pulled across his face at Hernan’s posturing. “Then you leave me no choice, Superman. If you will not abide by the good laws of this nation, then I must declare you an enemy of the state.” Hernan remained unmoved as Lane’s smile only grew. “New heroes of today, here’s my first order: apprehend Superman.”

Before Hernan could so much as flinch, the once straight-backed beings launched themselves off the stage. Four pair of strong hands gripped Hernan’s arms and shoulders to pin him to the ground. He went down easily at first out of shock, but found it hard to get back up again.

There must have been six on him. Hernan couldn’t see. He could only feel their fingers digging into him as they kept him down with more force than what looked physically possible with their smaller frames.

“Hernan!”

Two were suddenly knocked away from him, allowing Hernan a window to throw off the remaining four.

_‘Took you long enough.’_ Hernan nearly grumbled, but that would imply he needed any kind of help or that he was even grateful for it. He wasn’t.

Hernan swiftly rose above the screaming panic of the crowd beneath him. The smart ones ran for cover, as others less concerned about living, pointed the camera in his face so the whole fight could be televised.

Hernan would have laughed if he weren’t currently surrounded by black armored soldiers, had red tactical lights dotting his chest, and no, he did not gravitate closer to Clark. Clark’s back bumped his because Clark had backed up into him.

Hernan elbowed Clark. “You take left; I’ve got right.”

“Right.”

“My right.”

“I know your—”

Clark was cut off by Hernan abruptly knocking back into him. Hernan had swiftly moved to dodge the sudden soldier who flew towards him. Instead those long fingers found purchase around a red cape, and Clark found himself being hauled right.

“Your right then.”

“Hernan!” Clark found himself swearing under his breath as he drove his fist into the soldier’s gut, but the being was unfazed. Their vice grip remained, and soon Clark realized, there were a lot more than six all of a sudden.

_‘Mierda.’_ Hernan seemed to notice at the same time Clark did.

Clark flew up towards the sky at a speed invisible to the naked eye. It was a speed he hoped would loosen the grip of the soldier holding onto him. If not the speed then at least the atmosphere to freeze their fingers.

They let go. Clark sped back down to break their fall. He had no idea if they were human or even alive. If they were, suit or not, they wouldn’t have survived the landing.

Although his sympathy seemed to be ill placed for he was forced to move away by hands reaching for him or swinging. The one he had lifted into the air had recovered and was back to lunging for him.

Clark must have blinked. For a second, he was facing down a sea of clad black figures reaching for him. The next, they were frozen.

“Need a hand?”

Clark’s eyes weren’t red but the look he shot Hernan was deadly. Hernan landed beside him unscathed.

“Don’t take it personally,” Hernan whispered. “The cameras are rolling.”

Clark wasn’t given the time to gawk before Hernan had roughly pushed him to the side. A black star scorched into the cement marked where Clark was just standing.

“Move!”

Hernan didn’t have to tell him twice as more red lasers rained down on them. One. Two struck Clark consecutively on his shoulder and arm. He let out a shout at the sudden burning that ran up his arm, through his shoulder, and came to rest at the base of his neck.

“You okay?” Hernan yelled across the way, continuing to bob and weave through what felt like hellfire. Clark’s wounds didn’t immediately heal, but the pain was numbed by the adrenaline running through him.

“I’m fine.” Clark bit out tersely. “What are they shooting?”

“Red solar radiation. Do you not have those on your earth?”

“No, my enemies seem to skip straight to kryptonite.”

“You mean that green rock?”

“Yeah.”

Hernan made a sound between a huff and a laugh as if he were amused and insulted at the same time. Amused that Clark’s biggest nemesis was a rock, and insulted that the very same rock could take him out too.

No matter, Hernan’s eyes sparked red, and he fired back. Nothing to truly kill the snipers, but enough to make them stop. Clark avoided flesh wounds altogether, and instead tried to send a great gust of wind to knock them off their feet.

A shot misfired, striking one of the frozen figures instead. The ice cracked and the body shattered into pieces. Clark paled at the sight. Did he cause that or did Hernan? However, before he could truly feel badly about it, the shattered pieces pieced themselves whole again. More figures were broken by either their brethren or missed shots, and each one of them pieced themselves whole.

Hernan swore under his breath.

“Nanites.”

“What?” Clark called from over the reflection pool.

“Just hit them, and hit them hard.” Hernan yelled, and finally Clark did. They weren’t human, and if they were alive, then they could take a hit and a lot more it would seem. Burning them, freezing them, throwing them through layers of concrete didn’t stop them. Instead, Clark had felt himself thrown through several buildings before his back collided into a parked car.

Nothing seemed to work.

Hernan had the same kind of luck which was no luck at all. Despite having faced nanite beings before, these ones didn’t coalesce into one huge monster. Instead there were many who were just as strong as him if not stronger. When he incapacitated one, two more went after him like a hydra except no heads were ever missing.

Just as Hernan had frozen several in his path, and used one frozen body to hurl down a line like a bowling ball knocking down pins, a white flash caught his eye. The figure’s face was masked in black gear like the others, but its uniform had a strip of white down its center. The figure had a lithe frame smaller from its counterparts, and weaved like a serpent through water.

It reached Hernan before he could fully grasp what was happening. Hernan was grabbed by the collar of his jacket with such a force he felt himself surged backwards. The back of his legs struck the edge of the reflection pool and he fell back with a great splash.

His hands scrambled blindly in front of him, pulling and pushing in any kind of way as he struggled to break free. His fingers grasped the edge of the tactical helmet in an effort to actually rip the head off the hydra, but the face that stared back at him wasn’t a snake at all.

Red eyes were set against features that were all too familiar yet impossibly wrong. It was as if someone had sculpted each individual feature perfectly: eyes, nose, lips… but placed them just a little off so that the way they moved was alien. And yet Hernan felt his hand flatten against the side of the pale cheek. His thumb ran across the arch of the cheekbone causing those thin lips to furl back.

_‘Kirk…’ _

A feral snarl rumbled deep within Kirk’s chest, and a flash of green was Hernan’s only warning before Kirk had pulled him up by the collar. A shock of pain ran through the side of his neck where the fangs had pierced through his skin. Still Hernan had held fast to Kirk. His arms wrapped around his shoulders as the venom burned through his veins.

“K-Kirk,” Hernan shuddered as the fangs released him. Red eyes met his but there was little fire behind the eyes, and the strength of his grip around Hernan was without purpose. This person in front of him felt nothing for him, and that cut Hernan deeper than the frying of his nerves.

“Kirk!” Hernan tried calling out to him again, but his voice had grown weaker even to his own ears.

Kirk gave him one last pull forward before pushing Hernan down beneath the surface of the water. Though he did not hold Hernan down to drown, he rose from the water with the kind of confidence one had after a job well done.

“Hernan!” Clark called for him as he fought off the continuing onslaught of soldiers. “Hernan, you asshole, get up!”

Hernan didn’t move. He didn’t even throw a sarcastic quip which made Clark take a second look at Hernan’s unmoved form.

“Hernan…? Hernan!”

* * *

Bruce’s fingers hooked around the wires and pulled. The wires broke free from various outlets with flying sparks and smoke. An alarm blared through the same room, and a light against the wall flashed red.

Bruce could hear a cacophony of boots run down the hall towards the door, and muffled urgent yelling to _‘fall in line’_ and ‘you know the drill’. Though before the door could slide open, a rush of water ran over him as the cylindrical glass chamber short circuited and opened. The room was flooded in a matter of seconds. Bruce couldn’t move his head to look, but he heard a splash then a heavy thud.

Gasping sounds, and coughing filled the room when the doors slid open. The men marched in. Bruce struggled to sit up, barely managing to elevate his head and shoulders from the ground. The rest was useless. He was a sitting duck in front of cocked guns.

However, their weapons weren’t aimed at him. They pointed down at the pale figure crouched on the ground. Long dark hair fell heavily across his face as they were soaked to the bone. Their labored breathing had stopped, and they held perfectly still when staring down the end of a barrel.

“Get up,” the one closest to the figure said.

They didn’t move.

“I said, get up!” the soldier drew back his weapon to deliver a blow when the end of the weapon was suddenly grabbed by a pale hand and yanked forward.

The soldier lost his footing, and the figure launched themselves at the soldier’s throat. The soldier wailed in pain as their limb flailed fruitlessly to the side. Others tried to pry the person off, but their fangs had sunk in deep. If they fired, they could have struck their teammate.

“What are you men doing? Kill him already!” Bruce heard Waller yell, and the men sprang to action. Shots were fired, and the amount of shouting increased. The figure had unlatched themselves and moved with a kind of grace Bruce envied at the moment. He focused on regaining the movement of his fingers as one by one, the armored men fall to their knees clutching their throats.

* * *

From the lens of his cowl, Bruce could see they were still alive if only bled to near hypotension. With long hours of rest and plenty of fluids, they’d live. Meanwhile the person who once looked dead was very much alive.

He licked the corner of his lips to catch every last drop of blood he could. He hadn’t fed in quite some time, and the fresh blood rejuvenated his once coma induced body. With a pale hand, he slicked his wet hair back from his face, revealing dark red eyes and crimson stained fangs.

Bruce huffed.

Those red eyes were on him, growing wide from having just noticed Bruce lying there in whatever liquid had filled the tank. He eyed him warily. Those red eyes raked in his appearance before turning to the chamber that once held him then back to Bruce, putting the pieces together.

Then a small smile broke across his lips.

* * *

* * *

“I’d call you batty.” His voice was hoarse. “But something tells me I wouldn’t be the first.”

“You wouldn’t,” Bruce manages out. The man easily moved to help Bruce up and into a chair which Bruce was grateful for even if he didn’t voice it.

“Your Superman… He’s in trouble.”

“Hernan?” the name slipped out easily before clear panic set in those red eyes. Bruce indicated towards the screen behind them which was still televising outside Lincoln Memorial. They could see the fight taking place with Hernan, and another person Kirk didn’t know yet, fighting off the proclaimed New Heroes.

“Those uniformed beings, they’re made of nanites.” Kirk pointed towards the screen. “See how they rebuild themselves when damaged? I’d recognize that anywhere.”

“So what can we do?”

“There must be a kill switch, or we’ll have to construct one fast.” Kirk moved towards the computer board, and began to type away in search for the file that’d have the kill switch.

“There,” Bruce said. “What’s that?”

Kirk selected the file in question. “We need a passcode.”

Bruce slowly began to regain mobility of his arm. He reached into his utility belt for his decipher. He had no idea if it would work in this world, but he would have to take a chance. Though some things looked technologically outdated, many things looked scientifically advanced. Nonetheless, he held it out for Kirk to take.

“Plug this into the system.”

The device slotted into a simple USB port, and Kirk watched as the device began to decipher. As it worked, Kirk spared a glance at the screen. He could feel his heart leap to his throat at the sight of Hernan unmoving.

“I have to go to him.”

“Go, I’ll take over from here.” Bruce waved him off.

Kirk quickly moved past Bruce, and without ceremony, stripped one of the soldiers of their clothes. In the cylinder he was only left with a pair of white briefs and nothing more. He slipped the clothes on, and found the boomtube in the corner of the room. Kirk knew Cadmus had stolen boomtube technology from Bekka, and never had he been more thankful about that fact until now.

The device was at 20% when Kirk boomtubed his way out of the facility and to the edge of the reflection pool. Hernan lied at the bottom, eyes barely open, and mouth agape.

“Hernan!”

Kirk moved. He rushed into the water and fell to his knees. His arms encircled around Hernan’s back to sit him up from the shallow water.

* * *

* * *

“Hernan?” Kirk tried to reach him, but Hernan was too far gone to hear him. His head fell back and that’s when Kirk saw the puncture wounds on the side of Hernan’s throat. The veins branching from the wound glowed green. Kirk had never seen anything like it before, but he knew it was killing Hernan.

Without hesitation, Kirk leaned down and sank his fangs into Hernan’s neck. His mouth was flooded with a grainy, mineral taste beyond just the copper and iron of blood. It was coarse on his tongue and slightly stung the roof of his mouth as he spit the poison out. He repeated the process again until he was certain none was left. He pressed Hernan’s collar to the wound to stop the bleeding before looking down at the man’s face.

* * *

His skin was paler than usual, and the bags under his eyes were dark and heavy. Kirk didn’t know how much time had passed since the last time he saw him, but by the aging in Hernan’s face, it felt like years.

“Hernan,” Kirk cradled Hernan’s face with a gentle hand, “I’m so sorry. I’m sorry; I should have never left you.”

Hernan didn’t make a sound. His eyes remained closed and his body heavy in Kirk’s hold. Kirk moved to shift Hernan closer to him, and hook an arm under his knees before he lifted him up and out of the water. They left the poison behind in favor of dry land.

As Kirk set Hernan down and knelt beside him, someone else landed on Hernan’s other side. His red cape was riddled with holes, the blue of his clothing was scorched, but the blue of his eyes glinted in a familiar way even if Kirk swore he had never seen him before.

“Is he fine? Is Hernan okay?”

_‘Hernan,’_ Kirk stilled. Hernan only gave his name to those he trusted, and so he must trust this strangely dressed being too.

“I don’t know yet.” Kirk answered truthfully, though it pained him to say it. His red eyes flickered back down to Hernan, with a kind of look that made something in Clark light up.

“Wait, are you—”

“Kirk.”

Kirk looked at Hernan. Relief broke across his usually calm features at the sound of Hernan’s voice. He raised his hand to place against Hernan’s cheek and instinctively, Hernan leaned against the cool palm.

Hernan’s eyes opened to see red ones looking back at him. It was a red that shined warmly with a kind of fondness Hernan couldn’t find for himself. Those features… he knew them well and the way they moved was in a way he didn’t deserve. They belied a longing, a reverence, an unfettered love he couldn’t bring himself to find true.

* * *

* * *

He didn’t belong here. _He_ had let Kirk die.

“Hernan,” Kirk rested his forehead against Hernan’s. “I’ve missed you.”

A serene smile crossed Hernan’s features and his eyes softened as if he was making peace with what he thought was happening.

“Am I dead?” Hernan asked as a form of afterlife being the only explanation for why Kirk held him close.

Clark had half the mind to say ‘yes’, but then Hernan’s eyes met his before he could say anything.

“No,” Hernan’s expression soured considerably. “Not yet.”

He’d be damned (literally) if this were hell instead of heaven, and there was no way Clark was part of his heaven.

“Uh, guys, whatever this is, you need to wrap it up,” Clark said before adding. “Quickly.”

Kirk had looked at the figures Clark had frozen, but Clark knew it was only temporary. The nanite beings heated the core of their bodies and melted the ice covering.

“Huh.” Clark hadn’t seen them do that before, and he wasn’t going to stick around to see what else they could do. But when Clark turned towards Hernan and Kirk, the two of them were dotted red by a myriad of tactical lights.

There was nowhere to go. There was no way to get out of here in once piece.

“It’s over, Superman!” A voice boomed from across the way. “Stand down.”

Clark was more than surprised to see President Lane still standing by his podium. It was as if he had never moved. He had no need to. He had every confidence that the nanite heroes he had created, would protect him no matter the cost.

Clark’s jaw clenched and his hands on either side balled into fists. Hernan was in no condition to fight, meaning it was up to Clark to protect him. He had to protect him and Kirk, and make it back to Bruce all in one piece.

Bruce. Wherever Bruce was, Clark hoped he was faring better than he was.

“Superman,” one of the nanite heroes spoke in an artificial tone. “Superman, by order of the President, you will be placed under custody.”

They stepped forward to push past Clark, though before they could reach him, someone stepped out in front of him.

“No,” she said firmly. “Leave Superman alone.”

She stood her ground, fearless in everything she did including standing in front of a firing squad.

“Lois! What are you doing? Get out of there!” Her father yelled, but she remained unmoved.

“No, father. This isn’t right, and you know it. You promised in your platform, there would be no more heroes, but what kind of world would that be? A hero isn’t just a man in a cape or someone who can fly. A hero is someone who places others before themselves. They make people feel safe. They make it possible to dream for a better tomorrow. These,” Lois looked at the nanite heroes who had halted at the sight of Lois, “can never be heroes for it comes from in here.” She placed a hand over her heart. “It starts from inside here.”

She looked from her father to the people who started to inch towards the scene and listen. They heard her over the millions of screens and radios across the world, and she spoke to them.

“Now Superman is not perfect by any margin. He’s egotistical, brash, and quick to anger, but he cares about this world. God knows he could probably fly out into space and never come back, but he’s here. He lives in this world just as you and I do, because he cares about the people in it. He wants to make it a better place – one that is safe for those he cares about, and I think that’s a sentiment many of us share.

“We should want a better world. We should want to do the right thing even when it’s hard. What kind of people are we – what kind of world is this – if we do not even at least try? Who are we if we condemn those who do try?

“The answer is: we are no better, and I don’t want to live in that kind of world.”

Her eyes softened beseechingly at her father to stop. President Lane’s grip remained tight around the podium as he hadn’t budged a muscle. He knew what he was doing. If Lois didn’t see that, then perhaps it was her age that blinded her, her mother’s influence, or Superman somehow corrupted her. Perhaps it was many reasons, but Lane couldn’t stop it now. Not after the many things he had to do in order to come to this very moment.

He had Hernan right where he wanted him. He needed to end it.

As if sensing their leader’s unwavering conviction, the nanite heroes stepped forward. “Please step aside, miss.”

“No.” Lois repeated through clenched teeth. “I’m not moving.”

“Nor are we.” Two men stepped beside her. They were strangers to Hernan, but they stood in front of him all the same.

“Me neither.”

“Count me in.”

“Me too.”

Clark watched in surprise as more and more people joined Lois. They stood between the nanite heroes and Hernan who was now up on his feet. Kirk supported Hernan’s weight with an arm around his shoulder. His features were still deathly pale, but it was clear even he looked surprised.

“This is your last warning.” The nanite heroes raised their arms, and above the wrist, they could see weapons aimed and ready to fire. President Lane said nothing to stop them, nor did Lois. She held her ground as did the people beside her.

A loud bang cut through the air, and Lois swore she was gone, but when she felt no pain surge through her, she opened her eyes.

Hernan stood before her holding what almost looked like sand between his fingers. In a split second, Hernan must have moved past her to cover the bullet that never came. Instead the nanite heroes dematerialized and crumbled into specs no larger than a grain of rice.

The kill switch had worked.

There was a collective sigh of relief, even cheers at their moment of bravery not being in vain.

Kirk quickly moved through them to reach Hernan before he could fall to his knees.

“I’ve got you.” Kirk assured him for he did. He held him firmly to his chest, and Hernan did the most logical thing he could. He wrapped his arms around Kirk in turn and held him just as tight.

* * *

* * *

_‘__Don’t ever leave me.’_ Hernan wanted to say, but what came out instead was, “I missed you,” and that was just as good if not better.

The dissembling of the nanites could have only been because of one person.

Clark reached for his earpiece. “Bruce! Bruce are you there? Bruce!”

“Stop yelling,” Bruce said. “You’re scaring people.”

Clark didn’t know if he should laugh or cry for the relief that washed over him. Bruce was alive. Bruce was okay. Bruce had saved them.

And as if Bruce could hear Clark’s worry through the earpiece he said softly. “Yes, Clark, I’m here.”

* * *

It took a day for Hernan to heal. By the next morning, he was his usual self, if not more agreeable now that he had his Batman back. His tone was gentler, his blue eyes clear and calm, and he was never an arm’s length away from Kirk.

Seeing them together was sweet, but made something in Clark’s stomach churn. He hated to think it was jealousy. He wasn’t envious of Hernan, but of them. They never said the word ‘love’, but in the way they moved around each other with a kind of familiarity people only acquired after being around each other for years, spoke clearly to how much they cared for each other. It was in the simple way Hernan would rest his hand against Kirk’s hip, or the way Kirk would lean into Hernan’s side when they sat down beside each other, and even the way their eyes would meet across a room.

There was a Superman and a Batman who loved each other very much meanwhile Bruce’s eyes had remained on the remote device he had taken from Waller’s office at Cadmus.

Waller had not been seen nor heard from since. As for Lane, he and the scientists at Cadmus were undergoing investigation for attempted murder of both Hernan and Kirk. Hernan had minor charges in comparison that resulted in an overall fine that would be paid off through his continued service as a Justice League member.

It’s hard to give someone community service who already serves the world on a daily basis.

However, that wasn’t Clark’s problem anymore. It was about time he returned to his own world.

Bruce was ready to go with the device at hand. They stood side by side and across from both Kirk and Hernan.

“I think we got off on the wrong start,” Clark said. “May we try again?”

“Sure.” Hernan offered his hand. “I’m Hernan Guerra, son of Rosa-Maria and Manuel Guerra, and younger brother of Valentina Guerra. I am the Superman of this world.”

Clark took his hand. “I’m Clark Kent, Daily Planet journalist and son of Martha and Jonathan Kent from Smallville, Kansas. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Hernan.”

Hernan smiled at the change of Clark’s introduction. Although both were Kryptonian, they were both very much human as well.

Hernan pulled Kirk to him by the hip and Kirk leaned against his side naturally. He gave Clark and Bruce a good-natured wave goodbye.

“Batman,” Hernan addressed Bruce before he could step through the portal. “Take care of the big guy for me.”

Bruce didn’t say anything to that, and if there was a slight quirk of lips, no one knew but him. He stepped through the portal after Clark and they were back home in their own world.

* * *

* * *

They had been gone for three days, Diana told them, and nothing major had happened while they were gone. Clark was thankful for that.

He was sure Bruce was down in Gotham getting his own report from either Alfred or Robin, while Clark remained on the Tower. When he thought about it, there was no rush for him to go back down to earth right away. He’d report back to his job in the morning, but other than that, he didn’t have much. He no longer had Lois that way, and the few friends he had were just a phone call away but he didn’t feel like calling them now. He also had his ma of course, but Clark wasn’t in the mood for the heart to heart she would undoubtedly pry from him.

So, Clark found himself in the Watch Tower’s observatory looking at his earth below him. It was very much different, yet very much the same as Hernan’s. The major difference in their timelines was that Hernan was born instead of Clark, and Hernan didn’t end up with the Kent’s but with a migrant couple. He had grown up learning the hardship of being different very early on in life. Clark had to wonder what Hernan would have been like had he ended up with the Kent’s, or even what life would have been like if there had been two birthing pods and they both landed on earth. Most likely, if that world even existed, it perished long ago.

Then there was Bruce… Clark didn’t look up what Bruce was in Hernan’s world. He was most likely just Brucie there – a vapid billionaire with too much money and too much time on his hands. He was probably married with kids that Alfred would adore, and whether Bruce would have been happy… well who was to say?

Regardless, of the many earths Clark had seen, there was always a Superman and a Batman. There was always a Clark Kent, and a Bruce Wayne until he had gone to Hernan’s earth. There, it was Hernan Guerra and Kirk Langstrom who were Superman and Batman, and they loved each other. It wasn’t a Kent or a Wayne, but a Guerra and a Langstrom that defied what Clark thought to be a universal truth. Or perhaps it wasn’t all the same. Perhaps his earth was different too, in which a Superman loved his Batman, but his bat didn’t feel the same.

“Missing Hernan already?”

Clark scoffed at the question. “Hardly, I like being an only child.”

Bruce came to stand beside him. He still donned his cape and uniform, but his cowl was absent allowing Clark to see his pale blue eyes. They peered over the deck to the earth below, but whatever he might have thought about it, Bruce didn’t mention it.

“Thought you would have been in Gotham by now,” Clark said.

“I’ve read through Alfred’s reports. Nothing dire at the moment,” Bruce replied easily, but Bruce was a paranoid person. He wasn’t the kind of guy who was satisfied by reports alone. However, Clark was wise not to question this for Bruce continued.

“There’s something I can’t stop thinking about lately.”

“Oh? What’s that?”

“In a universe where you were never born, neither was I.” Clark felt his heart begin to race at some very weird fact indeed, but a fact. “My mother miscarried, and my parents were too grief stricken to try again. One night they went to a circus, where a young acrobat was suddenly orphaned. Dick reminded my parents of the son they couldn’t have, and so they adopted him.”

Bruce’s gaze remained on the earth below them as he told Clark what he had found out about his family. He didn’t look to see what Clark thought which was a very good thing for Clark couldn’t feel what his own face was doing.

He was stunned by the news as if this confirmed that there was some kind of universal truth. Where Clark was, Bruce would follow. Whether Bruce loved him or not… well that was another matter, but Clark felt something in him flutter. The way Bruce spoke, his intent felt like he was saying there was some kind of extra-dimensional fate that tied them together. In this world and the next, there would be a Clark Kent and a Bruce Wayne or none at all.

“It is strange, don’t you think?” Bruce asked. His pale blue eyes met Clark’s searching for something Clark wanted to give but wasn’t sure what that thing actually was. He could only give what he knew, and so his fingers carefully reached for Bruce’s hand that rested against the railing.

When Bruce didn’t pull away, Clark found an impossibly bright smile illuminate his features. Perhaps his Batman could love him too.

“Yes,” Clark said. “It certainly is strange.”

END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: Few things first, I'm sorry for how political it might have gotten in the end. This chapter took the longest to write not because of it's length, but because of how I tried to go gently into these hard topics while still making the point. That being said, President Lane is not based off of any existing real life person, but remains solely as a GnM version of General Lane from canon DCU.
> 
> Now after I just said that, when Hernan says he wasn't allowed to attend public school as a child of migrants, the U.S. Supreme Court ruled in Plyler v. Doe (1982), that undocumented children and young adults have the same right as any US citizen to attend public school in the US. However, despite this, some schools and people would use the threat of deportation as a way to dissuade undocumented children from attending public schools.
> 
> When Hernan says, "Peace or conformity?", this is in reference to Confucius in which he says in the Analects, "A gentleman seeks harmony, but not conformity. A vulgar man seeks conformity, but not harmony." 
> 
> And finally, now that you've made it this far, thank you so much for reading. I hope you enjoyed this fic that took me over a year to plot, and still, I'm not sure what to make of it. I really do love both Hernan and Clark as Supermen for their differences in philosophy and I hoped this story came off as non-biased as I could, while still remaining fun and sad where it needed to be. And gosh there is so much I wish I could have fit in here like Bekka, or more coffee talks, and Kirk and Bruce interacting with each other more, and of course that moment when Clark three years later tells Bruce he's in love with him and Bruce going, "Well I hope you would. We've been dating for three years." because what are communication problems XD
> 
> But it had to end, and I thank you for coming on this journey with me and SDS. I hope you enjoyed and as always, take care!


End file.
